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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561088">You can’t make me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinkyBaby/pseuds/DinkyBaby'>DinkyBaby</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Crack, Angst, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Past Abuse, Self-Indulgent, Self-Insert, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 21:40:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>52,934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29561088</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinkyBaby/pseuds/DinkyBaby</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Inserted into a five year old body and dropped on the steps of St Mungo's, he is supposed to save Harry Potter. But can he?</p><p>Hiatus sorry.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Sirius Black/Remus Lupin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>260</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>408</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>A Collection of Beloved Inserts, Foreknowledge, Into another world</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. The blame game</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As near as they could ascertain I was a five-year-old again. Well I say again, but they insisted it was my first time still.</p><p>Either way, surely that meant I could throw a tantrum, if only against the unfairness of life? And it was unfair. Why bother to thrust me into a magical world only to make me too young to do magic for another six years? And an orphan to boot?</p><p>To start with, inserting had not been pleasant. At all.</p><p>In my world, I must have fallen asleep on the train on my way from work. I vaguely remembered an odd dream, only to wake up in St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, very much injured from head to toe.</p><p>It took me much too long to understand what was happening, and my insistence that I was an adult hadn’t been helped by my initial confusion in which I had thought I was a dog. (More on that later.) Or by the fact that doctors were suddenly waving sparkly sticks about, and I kept telling them, “Happy Fourth of July!”</p><p>Yes, I know. I was an idiot. But would your first thought have been wands?</p><p>I’ve read the fanfictions, seen the anime. The only reason you, or I in this instance, inserted into a world was to be the agent of change. I would save the princess, start a harem, and be loved by all.</p><p>Which in Harry Potter books translated to expose Pettigrew, save Black, give Harry a better life, find some way of killing Voldemort. Perhaps throw a few Death Eaters in jail and finish it off by improving the conditions for werewolves, while running the government with my pinky finger, and being pampered by my many underaged wives. Oh, and horcruxes.</p><hr/><p>Stuck in a hospital bed with my bones being regrown and my organs knitting up, I pondered this issue whenever I was given a moment’s respite. In an ideal world, the simplest solution would be to spill the beans. I’d leave it in their magical hands and go my merry way. Everyone would understand that I was an adult and just… short.</p><p>That seemed to be the most sensible thing to do. I read all the books, I could tell them more than a few facts that a five year old shouldn’t know, some predictions of the future and <em>voila!</em></p><p>Right?</p><p>Wrong.</p><p>Whenever I opened my new itty-bitty mouth to relay any pertinent plot points, I was struck dumb. No sound came out. Tried writing it? Chicken scratches looked better than my efforts. A better man than me might have found an instant workaround but I seemed to be an idiot, and spent a good long time looking like one. (The reason for this would be resolved soon, don’t bother your head about it.)</p><p>Never fear. I was an idiot but not one that gave up at the first obstacle.</p><p>Next option.</p><p>If I couldn’t tell them about the books, why not just tell them who I was? James Taylor, a thirty year old—single, thank you, ladies and gents, all applicants welcome—chef that jumped from my world into theirs. I'd at least be treated as an adult and most likely would get some help from the Unspeakables to return to my world.</p><p>So that was what I did.</p><p>I told the healers, the aurors, and everyone else that wanted to listen, and at first it was quite a to-do. Such a thing had never happened before, time travel yes, but travel between universes? No.</p><p>I was believed for all but five minutes before Kingsley Shacklebolt—and oh how I hated that auror—found my dead mother, our suitcases, and one particular book.</p><p>Kingsley came soon as he was called to hear my fantastic stories and sat himself down next to my bed.</p><p>“Jamie. I’ve some news,” he said, and reached out to take my hand.</p><p>For a big man, his voice was surprisingly soft, and his previously sharp eyes now turned sympathetic. Because this was my life now, I knew it would be nothing good.</p><p>"We’ve found your mum.”</p><p>Okay. That was the last thing I had expected to hear.</p><p>“Wha-How?” I sputtered before I could help myself. “My mum’s dead...”</p><p>She had been for over a decade. I am sure I told them that; I’ve done my best not to skip a detail. And how could they find her when I came from another universe? Was she here also? And alive?</p><p>“You know?” Kingsley asked.</p><p>What was he on about?</p><p>“Of course I know, she died of cancer when I was twenty—”</p><p>“Ah. Yes, I heard you were saying that,” Kingsley said.</p><p>He pulled a photograph out of his breast pocket and showed it to me. It was the face of a dead woman in her late twenties, dark brown hair and pale, with a mole on her lower lip. If her eyes had been open, they would be blue.</p><p>“Is this your mum, James?”</p><p>I could only nod, speechless, unwittingly sealing my fate. For it was. But how? It was Janet Taylor how I remembered her when I was younger, it was my mother and also not. My mother had died in her forties from breast cancer, and this woman had died a couple of days ago.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Jamie. You and your mum were attacked two days ago, and she didn’t survive. I promise you she felt no pain,” Kingsley said.</p><p>He gave my hand another consoling squeeze.</p><p>“Do you know what you and your mum were doing in Ottery St Catchpole? Do you remember anything about your attackers now?”</p><p>“Where?”</p><p>Wasn’t that where the Burrow was?</p><p>“I think you are confusing him,” my healer spoke up.</p><p>From all the staff I preferred him. The red headed, freckle-faced Healer Smith was young but he was the least fussed and though he treated me like a five-year-old, the same as everyone else, he didn’t speak down to me. He had been by my side from the start and I had come to depend on his steady presence. None of that meant he didn’t deserve the scowl I sent in his direction.</p><p>No.</p><p>I yanked my hand out of Kingsley’s.</p><p>“I am not confused,” I told Smith. “He is.”</p><p>I made Kingsley repeat everything.</p><p>He did so in a censored, child-friendly version. A woman’s body had been found in a ditch outside Ottery St Catchpole. The staff at a Bed and Breakfast had identified her as Janet Taylor, passing through with her young son who looked identical to me.</p><p>“That’s not me,” I said. “That’s a woman that looks like my mum and the boy wasn’t me. I’m thirty years old, not five no matter what you say.”</p><p>“Perhaps this might help you remember,” Kingsley said.</p><p>He dug down into his robe’s pocket—I’ve learned by now you could keep a fuckton of stuff in a wizard’s pocket—and came out with a book which he set on my lap.</p><p>“We are still going through your mum’s belongings, trying to figure out where you came from—”</p><p>“From another world.”</p><p>He patted my leg.</p><p>“Your mum had a few books and this one was between them. Can you read?”</p><p>“Of course I can read.”</p><p>I looked at the book on my small lap.</p><p>
  <em>The Immortal Life of James Taylor, The Naughty Chef.</em>
</p><p>It did not explode when I touched it.</p><p>The royal purple cover picture was of a middle-aged man thoroughly gone to seed, but seeming happy about it if his broad smile was a clue. I had never seen him in my life, and a scan inside informed me he was a model and the book a fictional account of a man’s adventurous life.</p><p>But it was me.</p><p>My life.</p><p>The first page held an inscription in spidery writing:</p><p>
  <em>Jamie, look what I found! Happy 5th birthday! May you have as many adventures as your namesake! Love, always, Mummy.</em>
</p><p>“There’s a page that’s earmarked." Kingsley leaned over and flipped the pages for me.</p><p>I scanned it. It detailed an accident this fictional James Taylor had. A train derailed. I flipped the pages and the next lot was about his slow recovery: months in the hospital, countless operations, and re-learning to walk while at the same time improving the nutritional value and taste of hospital food, mostly by throwing tantrums.</p><p>"You and your mum must have been reading this, Jamie. When the two of you were attacked your mind got it all mixed up—”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“The healers will explain it all to you,” he continued over my protest. “You might remember later—”</p><p>“No!”</p><p>Static raised my hair.</p><p>“There was a dog on the train," Kingsley persisted. "Look, read here. Remember? You thought you were one?”</p><p>“I know I wasn’t one!”</p><p>This wasn’t right. How was I the one from a book? If I was in their books...</p><p>Up to now I’ve been very patient. I drank whatever gunk it was they called potions. I let them do whatever they wanted to fix this strange new child-sized body. I did not make a fuss when no one rushed to believe I was not a child, and insisted I was just a confused one…</p><p>It was the straw that broke the camel’s back.</p><p>I went all ‘devil child needs exorcist’ on them.</p><p>A tornado started flinging furniture about, and Kingsley wisely left, leaving Smith to deal with me and my accidental magic fueled tantrum.</p><p>Once my tantrum was over—and sadly it did not help my case—I hid myself and my existential crisis under my blankets and refused to come out for the rest of the day. I even ate my dinner there.</p><p>The universe was taking me for a joyride and I wanted off.</p><p>Or at least tell me who to blame!</p><hr/><p>I could have taken it easier, done it with a little less angst, for that same night I received all the answers to these questions. I also learned exactly who to blame for this oddly uncomfortable predicament I’ve found myself in.</p><p>At first I didn’t know what woke me. The persistent pins and needles of my body, still healing, perhaps.</p><p>Around me the room was dark and I could hear no noise from the corridor outside. Slightly thirsty, and wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, I considered calling for some warm milk and reached out to the small night light on my bedside cabinet, bringing the globe to a dim glow.</p><p>And saw her.</p><p>A shadow of a woman, ivory pale, with long auburn hair reaching down her shoulders...</p><p>She stood there, unmoving, an arm's reach away, quietly watching me.</p><p>I will forever be thankful to the powers that be for endowing me with strong bladder control.</p><p>“Finally,” the ghost said, and when she smiled her teeth gleamed a translucent white in the glow of my small light. “We thought we would never be able to talk to you in time. Hello, James.”</p><p>“He’s awake?” a man asked from the darkness.</p><p>I learned exactly what it meant when they said your skin crawled. Every molecule of my body wanted to not be there, and they all had different ideas on which direction to go. Oh, God, there were two of them.</p><p>The second speaker appeared silently next to her and leaned down to put his face millimetres from mine, letting me see through his head and his messy hair to the room beyond.</p><p>“Hello, James,” he said while I tried not to have a heart attack. "It was quite the experience getting you here."</p><hr/><p>Theoretically, I knew ghosts existed in this world.</p><p>Hogwarts had over twenty if I remembered correctly. Perhaps there were some in the hospital also, it would only make sense with it being the type of place it was, but I haven’t seen any yet, and up to now had not even thought of them.</p><p>Ghosts.</p><p>In my world, they were phantasms that only existed in certain genres of films and books, their function purely to scare and titillate. I was not titillated, I can tell you that.</p><p>“I thought we would have to wait another night,” the woman said. “It took us forever to catch you awake. Let’s be quick about this, James.”</p><p>James, but she was talking to him, not me.</p><p>“Yes, dear.” He gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze.</p><p>I looked on in horror, desperately trying to remember the plot of any of the conjuring movies I had always avoided like the plague. I had no idea what to do in case of possession—I would just have to roll over and take i—die like a man...</p><p>He turned to me and said, “It’s unfortunate that you are a child now, James—shall we call you Jamie?—but we think we can still make it work even if you’ve forgotten most. What do you remember? Perhaps we should re-introduce ourselves, my name is James Potter, and this is Lily, my wife. We brought you here to save our son.”</p><p>“And Sirius," Harry Potter’s mum said.</p><p>“—and our friend, Sirius Black. Try to remember their names in case we disappear; we can’t stay around much longer without the Resurrection Stone.” He paused and looked at me as if expecting something.</p><p>I didn’t care about the stone.</p><p>“You brought me here?”</p><p>It was not an unfortunate, unavoidable glitch in the matrix?</p><p>“Yes,” James said. This time his grin was wild and excited and I got a glimpse of how he would have been as a Marauder, young and alive. “And quite a time we had in doing it! We thought we lost you there for a moment. Few people survive the trip through the veil, or everyone would be doing it, but Lily here remembered that children’s bodies were more malleable, and found something extraordinary. She realised that you were the biological doppelgänger of a boy who was dying here, and it needed just a bit of a tweak—”</p><p>“You brought me here?”</p><p>And I could have died? Oh, God, I nearly did, didn’t I? I could have died and they sounded more excited than sorry!</p><p>“Yes, sweetheart.” Lily reached down and patted my head, static running where she touched, raising my hair straight up. “Exciting, isn’t it? I’m sorry that we had to de-age you, you’d be much more effective as an adult like we planned, but James is right, you would have died otherwise.</p><p>“James hasn't said half of it, did you know he and Sirius knew your mother? Well, your mother here. No, of course you didn’t, what am I thinking? It's a sign, Jamie. This was meant to be.” She spoke softly and smiled sweetly and did not at all look like the deranged ghost she obviously was.</p><p>“We did," James said, taking his turn. “Lovely girl. Once you get the stone we can sort things here. Sirius will go free and take Harry, and we’re sure he'll step up and give you a home after we’ve explained your part.”</p><p>My mind was churning in shock and I only heard the odd word here and there. They did this to me. The ghostly parents of Harry Potter had brought me over to this world, nearly killing me in the process.</p><p>“Can I go back?”</p><p>“To your own world?” Potter asked. “No.”</p><p>It was all too much to take in.</p><p>Their words buzzed in my head, none finding a place to settle. This was a fever dream. I was on the train and would soon wake up. </p><p>And the dog. Don’t forget the dog. The dog was sick. Had the dog died on the train? No, dogs never died in dreams.</p><p>“Perhaps we should take it slower, Lily,” James said, looking at me quizzically.</p><p>He had lost his smile and was frowning now.</p><p>Was he worried? Why? He was already dead, I was the one dying here.</p><p>“Look at him.”</p><p>Look at me what? I struggled to stay seated but an immense weight was pressing on my chest. Crushing me into the bed. I could have died.</p><p>“Oh, dear,” Lily said quietly, sounding far away. “Hold on, Jamie…”</p><p>They did this to me.</p><p>A strong breeze raised my hair. Everything went black.</p><hr/><p>When I woke the room was intact and the Potters were still there. Lily Potter was holding my hand.</p><p>“We’re sorry, James,” she said. “We would like to give you time to absorb everything but we only get one shot at this.”</p><p>Lily explained. She was concise but still it would be easier to condense it for you. Two days ago they became aware, in what they called the afterlife, that Harry was locked in his cupboard. Normally, people who died and passed over had no awareness of this world unless someone called for them, which the poor kid did. James and Lily being who they were, gathered the strength to come see what was up, and found Harry locked up without food and Sirius on the first step to madness, taken to surviving as Padfoot in Azkaban, in place of Peter.</p><p>The rules being that having passed over, they couldn’t affect anything in this world or talk to anyone without an artifact such as the Resurrection Stone, they realised they needed someone to actually find the stone to call them, and put their heads together.</p><p>And learned they could affect other worlds, such as mine.</p><p>And not only that, they could pull a hero from mine to theirs to search out the artifact for them.</p><p>Trains and train stations played a role in this connection, being liminal spaces and though they could move from one world to the next they were limited to the British rail. I was chosen not for my great heroic countenance like I secretly started to think during the explanation but because I was on a train, dozing over a book that had their son’s name on it.</p><p>The Potters were astonished to find their son’s life detailed in a book. Once I had gotten over my own astonishment at seeing two ghosts, I explained Harry's future as the wizarding world’s saviour. To give the two their due they didn’t ask me to be in his place instead. They simply wanted the stone taken to the head of the Aurors to leave it for the people in charge to sort.</p><p>And I had consented. According to them my exact words after they showed me visions of Harry and Sirius in his sad dog form—not even a cat person could resist a sad dog—were: “Magic? Sign me up!”</p><p>The fuckup came when they pulled me through, and I nearly died in the process. It was Lily who found the young James Taylor of this world crossing over to his mum, and recognising the possibilities, mashed me into his body.</p><p>"So if I am here to help why do I do an impression of a goldfish whenever I try to tell them what will happen?" </p><p>If you asked me that was the most idiotic part of all of this.</p><p>"Ah," Lily said. "They were afraid you might affect the world too much so they placed a geas on you."</p><p>"They? Who are <em>they</em>?"</p><p>"The powers that be, dear. We can’t say more ourselves."</p><p>The rules being what they were (which was idiotic, according to James and I was in full agreement), I would never be able to change anything here by imparting what knowledge I had gathered from Harry’s books. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t change the future as young Jamie, and there might be workarounds that they haven’t thought of.</p><p>“You are not to do things on your own,” Lily said now. “You are too young. If you can find a way to make Kingsley get the stone, we’ll deal with it.”</p><p>“I’m not too young. Only the body is five, I'm still a thirty year old man.”</p><p>“For now, dear.” </p><p>She patted my head and her hand made my hair buzz on contact.</p><p>“What do you mean for now?”</p><p>“They will not let you keep your memories for too long, Jamie,” James said over her shoulder. “You are a child now and nature will take over, but mostly the powers that be don’t want us messing with their plans.”</p><p>“And no adult in their right mind is going to let a toddler run around as he pleased,” Lily added with parental certitude.</p><p>“Wait—what?"</p><p>On that horrible note they left.</p><p>I said it, right? When the Potters came I knew exactly who to blame for this.</p><p>Me.</p><p>It was me.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. No, I don’t!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>So here I was. Stuck in the magical world of Harry Potter with foreknowledge that I couldn’t share, in a body too young to do any magic except for accidental, surrounded by people who thought that I imagined myself to be a character from a book.</p><p>And possibly on the way to lose my memories of it all.</p><p>This all would be quite a roadblock if I was to expose Pettigrew, save Black, give Harry a better life, find some way of killing Voldemort, perhaps throw a few Death Eaters in jail and finish it off by improving the conditions for werewolves while running the government with my pinky finger and being pampered by my many underaged wives. Oh, and horcruxes.</p><p>I didn’t prescribe to the Potters’ idea that I was too young. I just needed to do things faster, before I forgot. I did what anyone sensible should do in this situation, whether five or thirty. I slept on it.</p><p>And in the morning I had a plan. Well, three actually.</p><p>Plan A, pretend to be a Seer. If Sybill Trelawney could, I could. All I needed was to give some cryptic clues and let them work it out.</p><p>Plan B, do it all myself. And fast.</p><p>Plan C, find some way to remember it all, and wait until I was of school age. Change Harry’s group from the three musketeers into four and help them sort things while enjoying my time having fun as a wizard.</p><p>Plan C was a bust even before I could start on A. Which was probably how my life was going to be from now on.</p><p>Here’s the thing. In all the mess it had never occurred to me to check the date. Yes, I know. I’m an idiot.</p><p>Up to the very moment that a healer floated a tentacled Percy Weasley into my room, I thought I had six years until I became of Hogwarts age and could enact Plan C.</p><p>But. Today was Percy Weasley’s eleventh birthday. No, I didn’t have the Potter Fandom Wiki memorised, everyone that passed in and out of the room wished the tentacled boy a happy birthday. Also, there was cake. And Percy was currently crying inky black tears thinking he was going to miss the start of school, that he won’t get sorted into a house, or worse, not be able to hold a quill.</p><p>Add all that up together and what did you get? Math. I had never bothered with it much but I could count as well as the rest of them.</p><p>So. Pop quiz. Percy Weasley was eleven years old today. If he was four years older than Harry and Ron, what age should that make me? Not five, that’s what. In order for me to join Harry in his school year, I should be seven right now, and not five.</p><p>There was going to be no fourth musketeer—<em>I was younger than Ginny</em>.</p><p>Excuse me if I sulked a moment.</p><hr/><p>It did not take long for my sulk to attract Molly Weasley, mother of all.</p><p>“Oh, what an unhappy little face,” Molly Weasley suddenly said next to my bed.</p><p>A round, motherly woman in a pink dress, she was everything described in the books, and I was instantly in love with her when she continued kindly, “Are you allowed sweets? I'm sure Percy wouldn’t mind sharing his. Would you, love?”</p><p>“No, Mum,” a puffy tentacle lip spoke.</p><p>His voice was an odd squeak, and his siblings guffawed, causing the boy’s face to turn as red as his hair. And well he should. I had thought at first the twins must have pranked him, but listening to them talk, it turned out he had secretly practised with his new wand next to their pond to be ready for his first school year and had a ‘mishap’.</p><p>Even through my sulk, I had been drooling over the stash on his bedside table. There was a big chocolatey birthday cake on a plate, and bowls of sweets. Having read all the books, it was not difficult to figure out what most of those were. Small golden boxes had chocolate frogs jumping inside, there was a bowlful of cockroach clusters, blood-red lollipops, a bag of colourful jelly beans, and many more.</p><p>All of Percy’s siblings were chewing away merrily, and even Arthur Weasley was nibbling at what looked like a white mouse’s tail. None of them appeared to be too bothered by the fact that they were having the birthday in a hospital.</p><p>“Go on—James, is it?” Molly said encouragingly. “Some snowflakes?”</p><p>Snowflakes? I thought we were talking about sweets here.</p><p>Despite my doubts, I didn’t need encouragement. Once Molly showed me the sweet: a jaw-sized, glacial green, peppermint flavoured, snowflake-shaped chocolate that promised hours of icy dragon breath on the wrapper, I was hooked. Peppermint crisps had always been my absolute favourite.</p><p>Not a minute later, I was happily breathing frosty toothpaste flavoured vapour into the room, my mouth full of chocolate.</p><p>Molly patted my head proudly. “There’s a good lad,” she said.</p><p>Yes. Yes, I was.</p><p>I wondered if the Weasleys would take me in.</p><p>Sure, they were poor. But if their world was similar enough to ours I should be able to help out with financial advice. Arthur might like to know about computers, and I could get them to invest in a few companies once I found a workaround to my problem…</p><p>Only, I didn’t know how I was going to manage that. How would I get them to even think of taking me in? Beg? How did anyone take in an orphan when they already had seven of their own?</p><p>Percy, being too sad to enjoy his stash kept sneaking me his share of the sweets with his longest tentacle.</p><p>Ginny offered me a slice of birthday cake, and then happily ran around doing the same to the whole hospital, for the cake was an endless birthday cake and new slices appeared as soon as one was cut. I scrapped the harem idea.</p><p>The twins, two identical boys with gap toothed smiles asked me what I was in for, and offered me a candy which one of their older brothers instantly confiscated, instructing me to never ever take anything from Fred and George. He was right also, for his fingers turned blue when it started to melt in his hand.</p><p>By the time dinner came I was truly stuffed and imagined my troubles to be not so bad. Sure, I didn’t know what was to happen to me after I healed, if they would kick me out to the streets or an orphanage. And yes, five was too young to be anything but a silly age, but I had eaten chocolates that hopped, I had dared to nibble on a roach, my stomach was filled with the most delectable magical cake, and my tongue was black from liquorice strings, so all was well in my world.</p><p>It was not to be.</p><p>The evening potions they gave me usually made me fall asleep, something I had seen it as a benefit up to now, any minute asleep was one I didn’t have to remember I was a child, but now it sadly meant that I slept through most of their visit, and woke up the next day to find Percy had gone back home.</p><p>I had not been forgotten, though, the Weasleys had left a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans beside my bed. Next to it I found a small card wishing me well and to get better soon. I thought the floral script was Molly’s, and unexpected tears clogged my throat at the kind gesture. (A couple of years later I would pay better attention to Percy’s handwriting and have a whole different feeling about the card I’d kept hidden in a shoebox under my bed.)</p><hr/><p>Enough dilly-dallying. Harry was still in that cupboard. Time for Plan A.</p><p>Here’s some advice. Never, ever pretend you can see the future in a hospital for magical maladies with staff that had seen it all, heard it all and probably done most of it themselves.</p><p>“<em>A dark cloud is coming! Evil will walk the earth!</em>” I intoned as low as the kiddy voice could go.</p><p>“That will be Healer Davies out on the warpath, today,” the girl assisting me into clean pajamas said. “He forgot his ten year wedding anniversary, quick, Jamie, we need to get you presentable. Oh, why is your tongue still black?”</p><p>“<em>Those who toil with earth, worry for the new generation!</em>”</p><p>Ah, hell, I should have said clay. How on earth did Trelawney do this?</p><p>“Oh, I heard about this one, climate change, is it?" That was Smith. They were all having a good time today passing by my room to see what I would say next. "Don’t worry your little head about it, the Unspeakables are on it.”</p><p>“<em>He who sleepeth like a canine has an innocent heart!</em>”</p><p>What? You come up with something better.</p><p>“Aw, aren’t you cute?" the volunteer said. "You’re right, it’s about nap time for little boys, let’s wash your face before you sleep.”</p><p>It continued in that vein. Plan A brought me lots of head pats, cheek pinches, and frustration.</p><p>I took my nap.</p><p>Naps were probably the best thing about being de-aged. When they roused me to see some sun before the day passed, I called for Kingsley.</p><hr/><p>He came as fast as always, and when he did I looked him in the eyes and said, “Harry Potter is in a cupboard and Sirius Black is innocent. You need to get the Resurrection Stone, but be careful it is in a cursed ring, kill the horcrux first, and the Potters will explain everything once you’ve called them.”</p><p>Yeah, I’m pulling your leg.</p><p>I tried to say all that but ended up looking like a fish gaping on the ground, the words refusing to form, a sight he had seen a few times already.</p><p>“Take a moment, James," Kingsley said kindly. "Did you remember something about your attackers?”</p><p>“Do you need some water?” Smith, who accompanied him asked.</p><p>“No I don’t!"</p><p>Oh, for something to throw! I had never been one to throw things in a tantrum but there was a first time for anything! I cast around in frustration and my eyes fell on the bag of beans the Weasleys had left me. God. If I could do nothing else with this damn rules I could at least repay them for their kindness, especially Percy. I tried again and this was what came out:</p><p>“There was a Rat Man!”</p><hr/><p>Morals. Morals and Peter Pettigrew. I want to state it clearly that in no way did I say or infer that Pettigrew had anything to do with the attack on Janet Taylor and her son.</p><p>Was Pettigrew a bad man? Yes. We all know what he did. Did I want to have him convicted for something he hadn’t done? No. That would mean the real perpetrators might get off scot-free. It would also make a mockery of justice, and who could trust it then? Who could trust me?</p><p>All this and much more passed through my mind when Kingsley asked, “A rat man?”</p><p>I told him. Of the rat I had seen in Ottery… who had changed into a man. And that was all the Powers That Be allowed me to say. I was surprised they let me say even that about Pettigrew. When I thought about it later it seemed to be because it was something that actually might have happened to this world's Jamie for I couldn’t replicate it with an 'I saw Voldemort!'.</p><p>Kingsley thought nothing of it. He explained animagi to me and told me in a very fatherly tone that there was no reason to be scared.</p><p>“Don’t worry about it, James. I’ll look into it. If you saw him then he might have seen you and your mum; perhaps he could tell us more about what happened to you.”</p><p>Oh, that would not do. In my aim to not place a false crime on Pettigrew, I had made him little more than an innocent bystander. What could I do? I couldn’t say anything about Voldemort. But they would get him for living secretly as Percy’s pet, right? That would make him a criminal for sure. The Weasleys would go spare.</p><p>“Is that all you remember, James?" Kingsley asked. "Take a moment and think hard."</p><p>Think, James! Something that would help Black, maybe, or they would both just end up in adjacent cells. “He’s a bad man,” I said in the end in desperation, not knowing what else I could do.</p><p>This was all too confusing, I wish the Potters had given me a rulebook.</p><p>Kingsley straightened up and pinned me with a sharp gaze. Criminals must hate him. I quaked, feeling guilty about everything from the time I dropped my mum's best vase and told my first lie to now, and was ready to fold. His questions intensified, and I might have happily told him everything in detail—every word I had read in The Prisoner of Azkaban and on—had I been able to.</p><p>How do I know he was a bad man?</p><p>… <em>Gaping fish miming from me, being unable to think up a quick lie.</em></p><p>What was he doing?</p><p>"… Changing into a rat!"</p><p>Oh how I wish that was fishy miming instead, I sounded like an idiot.</p><p>Was the ‘Rat Man’ one of my attackers?</p><p>“No!”</p><p>I met every other question of his with an ‘I don’t know’ and he left unsatisfied, but I had full trust that he would investigate it anyway.</p><p>Smith brought out my scheduled potion and I eyed the green bits that floated in the grey gloppy fluid.</p><p>I pulled a face at it.</p><p>“This tastes disgusting, you know.”</p><p>“You just ate an earwax bean, James.”</p><p>I had. Right when he and Kingsley entered my room. It was high up there on the list of most disgusting things I had put in my mouth. The damn thing had been pink and smelled like strawberries. I eyed the rest of the bag with wary suspicion. Smith stole a bean on his way out.</p><p>“Hm! Passionfruit!”</p><hr/><p>I did not realise how much of the new world I was missing, until Smith took me out in a levitating chair.</p><p>So far most of the magic I had seen was appearing and disappearing dishes, and the floating crystal lights on the ceiling. That, and there were loads of levitation going on, of bed linens, of quills and parchments, potions and medical equipment, anything that could be carried was levitated instead. I supposed it saved a lot of backbreaking labour but I was not surprised anymore that one of the first charms they learned in school was a Leviosa.</p><p>Outside the room the halls were bustling with activity. Wizards and witches, some in regular clothes, others in colourful robes and pointy hats, were talking with healers and walking with patients. Memos in the shape of little birds fluttered over people's heads. In a corner, two young kids, one with pink rabbit ears, were drawing brightly coloured lines in the air with toy wands. The walls were covered with tapestries and portraits in big golden frames, the occupants moving from frame to frame. One saw me gaping awestruck at them and winked and waved at me. I truly felt I was in Harry Potter's world.</p><p>To a man they all stopped and stared as we passed, and excited whispers followed in our wake. I doubt it was Smith they found interesting.</p><p>“Why are they looking at me?”</p><p>“They are a bunch of gossips,” Smith said. “And you are a new face. Pay them no mind.”</p><p>He floated me past everyone into a lift, pressed the button labelled ‘garden’, and we zoomed up in a smooth, noiseless ride. When it opened we exited onto the roof, into mellow sunlight.</p><p>“Here we are,” he said unnecessarily and floated my chair out.</p><p>Green. An abundance of green. Meandering pebbled paths. Twisting ivy. Rustic tables and benches on a green lawn. Fully grown trees that rustled in the light breeze, birds hopping in the branches. A butterfly fluttered past my nose. A bug settled in my hair while I gazed in amazement at it all. The garden should be overshadowed by the surrounding city buildings but not one could be seen, there was not a whiff of evidence that we were on a roof and not behind a country clinic. It shouldn’t be possible.</p><p>“You’re not used to magic, are you, Jamie?” Smith asked next to me.</p><p>I closed my mouth. I simultaneously wanted to say 'Yes, I am', and 'No I’m not', but I hesitated too long and he came to his own conclusion.</p><p>“I thought so. Was your mum a muggle?”</p><p>Was she? But if she was a muggle what was she doing in Ottery, so close to wizards? It couldn’t be a coincidence.</p><p>“I don’t know. I don’t remember.” And since offense was the best defence, I asked, “Does it matter?”</p><p>“No, it doesn’t.”</p><p>He removed the bug from my hair and flicked it away. It buzzed right back and I told him to leave it, bugs didn’t bother me, then made him float my chair down the little path to the pond. We were the only souls there and I asked about it.</p><p>“It’s visiting hour. I’m sure they will come after their families left, this area is for patients only.”</p><p>Ah. I tried not to think of the fact that I was all alone in this strange world and stared hard at the water but Smith had realised his gaffe and was already trying to console me. He promised the Aurors would find the rest of my family soon, but I closed my ears. That won’t happen. What did I care anyway? I had lived on my own for years, it would be nothing new. I had a good life, a job, an apartment, friends, I wasn’t a sad, needy wallflower, and I wouldn’t be one here even if I landed in whatever counted for their orphanages. Oh, god, was I going to cry?</p><p>“Do you want to play Exploding Snap?” Smith asked in an overly cheery tone, breaking through my maudlin thoughts. “I brought cards.”</p><p>“Yes, sure.”</p><p>He floated me to a wooden picnic table and I found myself parked opposite him, a large deck of midnight blue cards stuffed into my babyish hands.</p><p>“Do you know what to do?” he asked.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>I had read the books.</p><p>My confidence lasted all of five seconds and ended with me throwing the deck in the air with a surprised shout when the card zapped my hand with a smart burst of static electricity.</p><p>Smith laughed.</p><p>“They do that if you hold them too long. Here,” he said and waved his wand, retrieving the scattered cards. “I’ll show you how it works. There are a few games we can play but since you don’t have a wand I suggest…”</p><p>And he was off prattling away, flipping the cards face up onto the table.</p><p>“That’s a bowtruckle,” he said, pointing to the green stickman that was now pulling a face at me. “You know that it’s okay to ask when you don’t know something, Jamie, right? You’re only five, no one expects you to know everything.”</p><p>His words gave me pause.</p><p>No, I didn’t know that. Not for one moment had it occurred to me that I would not be looking like a gauche fool if I asked things, that they would just put it down to the natural curiosity of a child. Thinking on all the times I had wanted to ask what's that spell I realised yet again that I was truly an idiot. I had tried so hard to make them believe I was an adult but my appearance and everything else were against me. They thought I was a child no matter what I said and did, I should play into it. Find a way to make it work for me.</p><p>“Shall we play Old Witch?” he asked and I admitted I didn’t know it.</p><p>It was Old Maid but the magical version that exploded whenever you pulled her. It was spectacular and when we were done the air above us had filled with smoke and both of us sat with burned fingers, singed eyebrows, and black noses. For the first time since I came I could relate to the train James and his: Magic? Sign me up!</p><p>“Time to go back,” Smith said.</p><p>He cast an Aguamenti on his handkerchief and wiping my face with the wet cloth. Then did a healing spell on my fingertips. </p><p>“The eyebrows will be back tomorrow, we’ll just have to suffer it.”</p><p>“Why?” I protested.</p><p>“The cards are hexed to prevent the growing spell, I think.”</p><p>“No, why do we have to go back? It’s still early.”</p><p>“We’re only allowed an hour. You’ve been sitting up long enough, Jamie. You still need rest to heal. Come on.”</p><hr/><p>I was getting tired of all the potions. Another one awaited me when we entered the room and I scowled at it in disgust. This one was a sickly white with what looked like nail clippings in it.</p><p>Smith removed the bug from my hair and crossed the room to flick it out of the small window.</p><p>“Try pinching your nose shut and imagine it is a milkshake.”</p><p>“I don’t think anyone has such a wide imagination. Why do they make it taste this bad?”</p><p>“It’s just how it is.”</p><p>“If that’s how you answer questions then don’t bother. When I grow up I’ll become a potioneer and make all of them taste good.”</p><p>Really? Had I just said that? Being treated like a child was making me act like one, it had nothing to do with nature-anything.</p><p>“I can’t tell you how many kids have thought exactly that and I’ve yet to see it happen. Pinch your nose, close your eyes and drink it fast.”</p><p>I was already pinching my nose against the smell wafting from it but I was definitely not going to drink it fast. Was that an insect leg? I shuddered.</p><p>“Do you want me to do it for you?”</p><p>“You want to drink it?” I held it out. “Be my guest.”</p><p>“Drink it like a good little boy and I might give you a toy.”</p><p>I would drink it anyway but the idea of a magical toy made me prevaricate a bit longer.</p><p>“What toy?”</p><p>“It will be a surprise.”</p><p>“I’m not so fond of surprises anymore.”</p><p>Which was a silly thing to say, for there were more in store for me the very next day.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Kingsley hadn’t come back to me with any news and I was finding it difficult to come up with a Plan D.</p><p>I was having lunch, which was fish and chips with mushy peas, my favourite, with a frosty bowl of vanilla ice cream next to it, also my favourite. Even so I found it difficult to enjoy the meal. Time was passing with so much I hadn’t yet seen and done and I was also feeling somewhat guilty, knowing that Harry was probably still locked up and starving.</p><p>Smith was on duty again today and was entertaining me with tales of his many siblings when suddenly he stopped mid sentence to say, “Sir, you can’t be in here.”</p><p>“I can,” a hoarse, guttural voice answered from the doorway, the tortured sound raising all the hair on my neck. “Let me see the boy.”</p><p>My first thoughts were that Kingsley had failed and this was Pettigrew, come for revenge and I did what any other five-year-old worth his salt would do.</p><p>I pulled the blankets over my head.</p><p>"Sir!” Smith squawked.</p><p>And honestly, don’t depend on him to save you.</p><p>The blanket was ripped from me and flew across the room before he could stop the interloper, and I could have died twice over by the time the healer jumped in between us, wand out.</p><p>But the man barely paid attention to him. Taller than Smith by a good head he stood there, holding a black, menacing-looking wand, easily looking over Smith at me.</p><p>Wild beard, dirty, matted dark hair, and waxy skin, he was dressed in a dark grey robe which was at least two sizes too large for him, and looked as if he had come here directly from Azkaban.</p><p>I had never before seen him in my life but I didn’t have to take a wild guess to know I was staring at the newly freed Sirius Black.</p><p>I stared into two piercing grey eyes that could have been my own.</p><p>Aw fuck.</p><p>He had the same idea. I could literally see the realisation dawn on his sunken face.</p><p>“You have my eyes,” he said.</p><p>“No, I don’t!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The owl</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Being an adult was easy. I've never quite realised how easy until I came here. You say one word and nine times out of ten you were believed or at least taken seriously. Not so when you were a kid. Was it the high, childish voice? The size? The notion that you couldn’t possibly know even how to wipe your own arse when you were five years old? All of that, I am sure.</p><p>“No, I don’t!” I told Sirius Black.</p><p>“When’s your birthday?” he asked, paying me no mind.</p><p>“The first of April, nineteen ninety-two.”</p><p>There, work that one out. I don’t know how the two worlds connected, but in mine I was born in ‘92. And while my time had been 2022, here it was August ‘87. Which meant that I was all at once a thirty-year-old—five-year-old that hadn’t been born yet.</p><p>It gave me a throbbing headache whenever I thought of it.</p><p>Hell, I was probably older than Black.</p><p>“Eighty-two, Jamie,” Smith corrected me, looking curiously from Black to me. “You were born in nineteen eighty-two.”</p><p>I sent a scowl in Smith’s direction but didn’t bother to correct him; I was too busy watching Sirius Black tally the dates mentally. Subtracting nine months from my birthday wasn’t too difficult. The young James Taylor in this world had been conceived around a month before the Potters died and Black went to Azkaban. Making it entirely plausible that he could have fathered this body.</p><p>“Five,” Black said, rattling the words out. “You’re five. They call you Jamie?”</p><p>“No. They don’t call me anything.”</p><p>I twisted around to Smith. This would not do, this would not do at all. At no time in my plans had I accounted for Black being any part of my life.</p><p>“Make him go!”</p><p>“Sh, Jamie,” Smith said.</p><p>But he did try.</p><p>“Mr Black, perhaps we can take this outside? You are upsetting the child.”</p><p>“I’m not upset!”</p><p>Or a child.</p><p>Actually, I was both. I went from a pro-active, gung-ho, I-can-do-it mentality to that of a toddler wanting nothing more than the safety of his blanket, which was currently lying at the opposite end of the room. There was no hiding from Black’s intense stare. Could he stop looking at me like that? He couldn’t possibly believe he was my father!</p><p>Why was the idea so abhorrent to me, you may ask. Surely living with him would be better than in an orphanage, than being on the streets? All right, I’ll tell you. I didn’t like him in the books. There, I said it. I didn’t like the way he was at school. Him and his friends, the marauders. His constant bullying of Snape that didn’t stop even when he was an adult. Forget the multitude of issues around Snape, I am not here to touch that, I don’t want to be with him either.</p><p>I had a long list more but you know it all. In my world it was a bone of contention in fanfiction circles, on who deserved what, and who were just kids and many more excuses for everyone’s behaviour. I didn’t excuse any of them, and frankly I didn’t want either Black or Snape to be in charge of me despite the many good points they might have. I didn’t like the way Black rushed off to do Dumbledore’s bidding instead of working towards his freedom and taking care of Harry. He was going to be a shitty father if he did that with me.</p><p>“Let’s talk outside,” Smith repeated and started herding the wizard out.</p><p>At first Black was an immovable wall and it looked as if he was going to hex Smith for trying to remove him from me, but then Davies, the Head of Pediatrics, came with his entourage and they all did their part in removing him from my space.</p><p>Halfway to the door, Black stopped to wave his wand in the direction of my blanket and it floated back to my bed to neatly drape itself across my lap. I scowled at him.</p><p>Then they were gone, and I was left behind to stare at the food that had not even the decency to grow cold. The fish was still steaming, the chips still crisp, the peas oozed warm butter, and the bowl of ice cream was as frosty as when it first appeared. I pushed the tray away.</p><p>No one thought to close the door between us and I heard everything.</p><p>Kingsley came and it took Sirius Black less than five minutes to convince him and the medical personnel that he was my father, and as my closest living relative would be taking me home as soon as I was well enough. Kingsley dispatched a colleague to check the Black family registry and she came back within a minute, glowing with excitement, waving a copy of the last page.</p><p>The deed was done.</p><p>Then Davies, the traitor, gave him my medical information including how I thought I was a character in a book.</p><p>And you should never trust healers because what he did next was even worse.</p><p>He convinced Black that he could do with a thorough examination and some treatment himself. He offered to reverse the effects of what was obviously malnutrition, and possibly more, and insisted that Sirius Black, soon to be bane of my existence, be admitted. That he needed to be his best if he was going to take care of an active five year old boy.</p><hr/><p>“You heard?“ Black asked me when he returned.</p><p>The healers trooped in on his heels.</p><p>I was sitting there with my jaw unhinged and my eyes bugging out of my skull, of course I heard. Hell, half the hospital had heard him explain exactly what he and my mother had gotten up to one hot and heavy week in Leeds; his voice was loud and he barked the words out as if he had forgotten how to speak.</p><p>Had they all lost their ever-loving minds?</p><p>He looked and sounded like a wild man, one brought up by wolves. And just as the thought came to my mind he bared his yellow teeth and growled at a junior healer when she stepped too close. He was clutching his wand so hard, his bony knuckles were white; someone was going to be hexed if they sneezed, and no one should have had any doubt about the idiocy of sending me with him.</p><p>I didn’t say any of that. My last brain cells were having a silent tantrum and I only managed a rerun of, “You’re not my father!”</p><p>“I am,” Black said.</p><p>He dropped the parchment on my lap and sat himself down on the second bed.</p><p>“Start your tests.”</p><p>I stared at the parchment. There I was. Right under Sirius Black III, 3 November, 1959. James Taylor, 1 April, 1982. In beautiful fancy script.</p><p>Oh, that won’t do. That wasn’t me. The mere thought of it was too hard to process and the ink blurred together.</p><p>"I thought you were struck from the Black family tree."</p><p>I distinctly remember that.</p><p>He looked at me oddly.</p><p>"You can’t remove blood."</p><p>Well you should be able to! I shoved the parchment off me and it fluttered to the floor. It never reached, Black Accio'd it and set it gently on his bedside table.</p><p>My mind glitched.</p><p>“You can't be here, get your own room!”</p><p>The healers tittered at me. I didn’t care, they could all go hang.</p><p>“James is right,” Davies said, sounding more amused than bothered.</p><p>Of course he would think it a lark, the man lived on discord or he wouldn’t have married a harridan if all the gossip about them were true.</p><p>“Perhaps you would like to move to another room?" he asked Black. "This is the children’s section.”</p><p>“I’ll stay,” Cro-Magnon Black grunted out and gripped his wand even tighter.</p><p>And that was that.</p><hr/><p>He refused a privacy charm but let them close the door, and Davies sent everyone out except for an older, bespectacled witch. I would never learn her name, for blood was rushing through my ears and I was near hyperventilating on my bed, staring at the nightmare unfolding opposite me.</p><p>Black made them wait until he charmed the small window to enlarge to nearly double its size and then undressed, uncaring who saw. He was skin and bones, I could count every rib. It was awful. Multicoloured bruises and old and new scabs vied with each other on the boniest parts. This time I was thankful for his long, matted beard and hair that did their best to cover part of it.</p><p>He sat like a statue while they examined him and cast a multitude of colourful spells that fizzled out over his skin. He paid them no mind, only swivelled his head between the window and me and back to the window and its stupid view of a another building.</p><p>“Eat,” he instructed me at one point.</p><p>“You eat,” I countered. “Don’t they have food in jail?”</p><p>He stared at me in silence until I took up my fork, embarrassed at myself. I knew I was being selfish, all right? Whatever Black was before, he was an innocent man who had just been released from a traumatic experience that took years from his life. Dementors. I couldn’t even comprehend how he had suffered if I tried. And all I did was sit and moan about how it would be affecting poor me.</p><p>The food was still as warm and fresh as an hour ago. I ate, barely tasting it. I wasn’t doing it for him. I was doing it because I had just made up my mind to run away, and God only knew where I would end up. The streets, probably, if no one took pity on me. Better start with a full stomach.</p><hr/><p>By the time the healers left, Black was starting to talk like a human so there was hope for him but I had my plans set. I pulled my blanket back over my head and left a small peephole to keep an eye on the wizard. What? There was no other means to get privacy, and he kept looking at me.</p><p>In turn, he pretended nothing was odd about my side of the room—how could there be when he was the oddest here—and took himself to the bathroom where he spent over an hour doing magical plastic surgery.</p><p>Gone was Cro-Magnon man. The wizard that stepped out of the bathroom accompanied by a cloud of steam was scrubbed pink, had given himself a close shave and a haircut, and somehow tailored his robe to fit his thin frame like a glove. You wouldn’t know it was the same wizard, or that the clothes hid a multitude of sins. Were his nails buffed? Had he plucked his eyebrows? He did!</p><p>Shocked to my toes, I gasped and promptly choked on my spit. Magic could do this?</p><p>Hearing me, Black grinned in my direction, showing off his newly whitened teeth. He was the picture of smart elegance and I was suddenly reminded of the fact that he was Sirius Black III, and came from a notable pure-blood wizarding family whose history spanned generations. They had a crest and everything.</p><p>He must have been reminded of that himself. He transfigured the visitors bench into a chair, an elegant deep green leather affair with gleaming wood, and he placed it in such a way that he could see the window and with a minimal turn of his head, me.</p><p>He buzzed the globe—that served as both a nightlight and call-bell—for the ward’s secretary. A middle-aged, matronly witch arrived and soon he was accommodated with a stack of newspapers and a tea tray. A writing set appeared beside him on a small desk, accompanied by an owl on a perch.</p><p>The witch returned to see if it was to his liking, blushed when he thanked her, and nearly tripped over her feet when he smiled.</p><p>Dear God. I didn’t know if I was jealous or disgusted but I was damn glad I didn’t have to compete with him. At my very best I had never made anyone giggle. Well. Whatever.</p><p>The gushing witch left the room and Black settled back with a newspaper, shaking it open, making the owl hoot a complaint at the sudden movement.</p><p>Aaand I promptly forgot about Sirius Black.</p><p>It was my first time seeing an owl up close and it was love at first sight.</p><p>Its face was heart-shaped, and it had golden feathers on its back with a fluffy white chest. It sat regally and gazed about it with midnight black eyes. Owls truly were magnificent creatures. I can imagine how Harry must have felt when he received Hedwig, and it was a shame Black was here, for I would have loved to go over and stroke the owl.</p><p>I so much didn’t want to give Black any attention, or give him any ideas, but I was leaving soon, right? So it wouldn’t do any harm to make conversation now, would it? </p><p>I dropped the blanket.</p><p>“What’s its name?”</p><p>Black turned from the newspaper to me and followed my eyes to the owl.</p><p>“Simon.”</p><p>How utterly ridiculous. I tsked my tongue at him.</p><p>“How do you know?”</p><p>“It says so on the perch.” He shifted aside so I could see the copper nameplate. “Can you read or not yet?”</p><p>I ignored the question.</p><p>“Will he let you touch him? Does he bite?”</p><p>“Owls do not like to be stroked, they stress easily, and no, post owls do not bite if they want to keep their job," he said, and his voice was still a croak, but he had lowered his volume at least. He looked at me curiously, and asked, “Is this the first owl you see?”</p><p>Yeah, no. Pass on the conversation. Channelling the five-year-old in me, I pulled the blankets back over my head.</p><p>“Do you want to touch the owl, James?” he asked as if I hadn’t just gone into hiding.</p><p>Trying to be my buddy? Next he'll offer to make me a friendship bracelet. </p><p>I dithered a moment before removing the blankets again.</p><p>“You said they don’t like it.”</p><p>Black unhooked a small pouch from the perch to lob it over to me and it plopped onto my outstretched legs. The owl’s head turned to watch it, beady eyes widening.</p><p>“Feed him that, then hold out your hand. He might push his head against your fingers if he is in the mood.”</p><p>The pouch was filled with crispy bacon bits.</p><p>“All?”</p><p>“One or two.”</p><p>I can’t remember ever touching a bird, and the idea of such a big one close to my tiny fingers was nerve-wracking. Still, I put two bacon bits on my palm and held it out in the owl—Simon’s—direction. It hooted but did not move, and its black eyes suddenly looked evil.</p><p>“We can grow my fingers back if he bites them off, right?”</p><p>Right? Why hadn’t Moody’s leg grown back? It was cursed, yes? Not a normal accident—</p><p>“Yes, if he doesn’t swallow them,” Black said.</p><p>I closed my fist.</p><p>Black laughed softly and I realised he had made a stupid joke. I was about to snap at him but his laughter turned into a coughing fit that sounded raw and painful.</p><p>When he got his breath back, he wiped his mouth with the back of his bony hand and said, “It was a joke, James. My apologies. He will not bite.”</p><p>“I’m not scared. I know it was a joke.”</p><p>His first Dad joke too, and as bad as any. I should congratulate him.</p><p>I held the bacon out again. Simon hooted but seemed glued to the perch.</p><p>“Go, you idiotic bird,” Black said, and the sudden flutter of wings nearly gave me a heart attack which would have made a liar of me.</p><p>The owl swooped through the room, its wings massive. I don’t know what I expected, that it would land on my arm maybe like a hawk, and I mentally prepared for the claws but it plopped down on the bed exactly where the pouch landed moments ago and walked over my legs to nibble a greasy bacon piece from my palm.</p><p>It weighed next to nothing and I could see every tiny golden feather lying perfectly in place; it was amazing, and might just be the best thing that had happened to me here. </p><hr/><p>Back home there was a guy who made a whole blog out of sniffing different birds. I kid you not. I came upon it one early morning when sleeping would have been a smarter idea. He described the smell of owls as piney-musty. (He described a few other bird species like that also, which was not too surprising since he lived in a pine forest.)</p><p>I leaned forward to take a surreptitious sniff. Musty. No pine.</p><p>Sirius Black coughed.</p><p>I believe I was in love with owls. When Simon's hard beak nudged at my hand I added more bacon.</p><p>I fed him half of the pouch before Black said, “That would be enough, James.”</p><p>I scowled over at him but stopped feeding it in order not to agitate the tightly wound wizard.</p><p>With the bacon supply gone, Simon ignored my hand and promptly flew back to its perch. I didn’t mind not getting a head bump, he was only my first owl and I vowed there would be many more. Wouldn’t it be great if my animagus form was an owl? Or my Patronus!</p><p>Black Accio’d the pouch and a wet cloth floated from the bathroom to hover in front of me.</p><p>“You may like to wipe your hands,” he said, breaking through my happy dreams of feathers.</p><p>If only he had not said it, I might’ve. I ignored the cloth and crawled back into my blanket fort, wiping my greasy palm on my pajama pants.</p><p>When I dared to open a peephole he was back to reading the papers, not bothered at all. Well, then he shouldn’t have bothered from the start.</p><hr/><p>I spent some time napping on and off while he read his newspapers and wrote a multitude of letters. I supposed it was whatever his version of ‘I have returned' was. Simon became a working owl and flitted in and out the window. I was curious to know how far those letters went or if owls used magic to carry the post faster but I didn’t ask.</p><p>Smith came to take me to the garden in his floating chair. He did a comical double-take when he saw how well Black cleaned up, and stuttered something idiotic, blushing to the roots of his pale blond hair when Sirius smiled. Really? Men too?</p><p>“You can’t come,” I told Black when he stood up to follow us.</p><p>“Jamie,” Smith said, sounding disappointed.</p><p>“He can’t.”</p><p>I was unanimously overruled.</p><p>“Sure he can, it’s a free country,” said Smith.</p><p>“I think I’d like to see a garden after all this time, James,” Black said quietly in turn, managing to make me sound like a proper little snot by comparison. “You don’t have to pay attention to me while you’re there.” And he told Smith to go ahead and take me, he’d follow.</p><p>Fun family picnic it was not.</p><p>In fact, we didn’t even make it down the hall when a crowd of reporters fell on us, their cameras blinding as they took picture on picture.</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius Black, how do you feel now that you’re free?!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you have anything to say to the Ministry?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Is this your son?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What did you miss most in jail? Food? Witches?” Raucous laughter.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Did Pettigrew kill his mother?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What’s your name, kid?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“James! His name is James! Was he named after your best friend…?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Was his mother Muggle?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Do you know that Pettigrew will receive the kiss?!”</em>
</p><p>That, and much more were shouted at top volume and sweaty bodies pushed against each other and us, forcing us back. It was all so much noise, I could scarcely figure out who said what, and I pulled my legs up and ducked when they bumped the chair this way and that.</p><p>A guttural snarl behind me made them step back in shock, but then they surged, cameras flashing.</p><p>
  <em>“Sirius! Sirius! You were a dog when they found you, was that how you survived?!”</em>
</p><p>An elbow bumped me and a camera was shoved into Black’s face, and the wizard must have reached his limit for his wand was out and he cast a hex at the camera before the reporter could finish saying his name. It exploded with an ear-splitting bang into a dense cloud of purple smoke.</p><p>It was like chum for sharks. Their volume increased two-fold.</p><p>We returned to the room where Smith apologised profusely before leaving to help the staff sort it. Black paced at the window, visibly trembling, snarling at the empty air, looking very much like the wild man that had first entered my room.</p><p>I had been forgotten by both wizards. As was the theme of this endless day—which was to hide like a turtle, if you hadn’t guessed by now—I climbed back under my covers.</p><p>What was that about Pettigrew and this kid’s mother? Surely they couldn’t blame her death on him. Pettigrew had been my plan, my lies. How would he have been involved? If they did that her real murderers would escape justice, and the thought of them walking free was enough to make me nauseous.</p><p>And worse than that. Pettigrew was to be kissed.</p><p>What if they kissed him due to what I said? I’d be to blame for a man’s death.</p><p>I stifled a horrified groan.</p><p>Damn this place!</p><hr/><p>In my musings I had stopped paying attention to Black, and squawked in surprise when he sat down next to me, making the mattress dip. “James,” Black said, sounding strange. He cleared his throat and a heavy hand fell on my leg.</p><p>“Jamie? Can you come out of there a moment?”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“I’d like to talk about what happened.”</p><p>Oh hell, he knew.</p><p>“I didn’t do anything!”</p><p>Surprised silence followed my words and I realised I sounded a right idiot. Of course he didn’t know anything. His next words proved it, and I breathed easier, forcing all thoughts of Pettigrew away for another time in case this was the one wizard who could read my mind.</p><p>“Jamie. None of this is your fault. You had nothing to do with it, it’s about things that happened before you were born.” He squeezed my leg. “I’d like to explain… You don’t need to be scared. Can you look at me?”</p><p>“I’m not scared.” </p><p>Offended at that, I removed the sheet to see how this would play out. He was a block of marble, face white, eyes glittering, and I was strongly reminded that he was fresh out of Azkaban, dream or not.</p><p>I bit my tongue not to agitate him further but couldn’t resist repeating, “I wasn’t scared.”</p><p>“That’s good.” He patted my leg awkwardly. “I was a little scared. It’s been a long time since I saw such a crowd.”</p><p>With that introduction, what followed should have been a father and son bonding moment. Perhaps he might have told me about his time in Azkaban, the war, or explained that violence was never the answer though we as Blacks should always aim to be behind the wand and not in front.</p><p>In turn, I would feel it was all too sweet. I’d be convinced to do a good deed before I left and advise him that he might want to extinguish some fires and let a selected few of the reporters have an interview, for this was the ‘80s and the media hounded people, remember Lady Diana?</p><p>But we never got to any of that.</p><p>The door opened, and we learned that the day was not yet done with us.</p><hr/><p>At first I thought the newcomer was another patient that got lost. It was not so far-fetched; on the wrong side of thin, the tall man looked ill, his long face tired, and his brown eyes sorrowful.</p><p>Black forgot all about me to rise like Satan reborn, and growled, “Remus.”</p><p>“Siri,” Remus Lupin said. “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>What happened next reminded me that I was in a new and dangerous world where everyone carried a weapon. Violet light ripped the air, rocking the room, and the smell of ozone seared my sinuses. It took me much too long to realise it had come from the wand in Black’s trembling hand.</p><p>Lupin must have expected it, though; his shield was up before it could reach, but still it flung him backward into the hall.</p><p>Cameras flashed and people shouted.</p><p>Black blasted the door shut with a deafening bang.</p><p>As to myself, I reacted to having what amounted to a shootout right next to me. I yelled and clutched my ringing ears, rearing back when Sirius twisted to me, his eyes wild and his wand pointed straight at my face, sparks already flaring up at the tip.</p><p>He made a strangled, odd sound that might have been my name, and backed away from me before turning and rushing from the room, the door banging a second time. </p><p>What the fuck?</p><hr/><p>It was time to go.</p><p>Black never returned and the healers walked softly around me.</p><p>I drank my final potion without a fuss, ate my dinner, and made my escape at two in the morning after the healer’s last round. There would be four hours until the next, enough time to be far away before they missed me.</p><p>Clothes were not an issue, this body had not come naked and I’d seen a child’s pants, shoes, and t-shirt in the cabinet. I dressed quietly and snuck out, keeping low to the walls, glad for the trip to the garden that showed me the way out.</p><p>The halls were dimly lit by wall sconces and silent. All along the way the portraits slept, the soft sound of snoring masking my steps.</p><p>No one patrolled the halls and I didn’t meet a soul; I doubt anyone expected a child to just up and leave.</p><p>Paranoia had me hearing sounds: tiny little clicking taps on the tiles that stopped when I did, doors closing softly behind me, breathing which raised the hairs on the back of my neck and made me walk faster. But I made it all the way down, past a bank of fireplaces and to the entrance uncontested. I had one scare where a dummy wanted to talk to me and I thought it was the Potters come to try again, but then I was out.</p><p>Finally. Freedom.</p><p>I turned to see the building I had read so much about and found I had indeed stepped through a window of a department store called Purge and Dowse, Ltd. A large shadow moved inside the glass and I imagined I saw glowing eyes. </p><p>That was enough to get me to stop sightseeing and get going as fast as my little legs could carry me off.</p><p>I knew exactly where I needed to go.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. A father</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I kept to the shadows and hurried down the pavement. Even at this time in the morning, there was enough activity outside the hospital and first I froze with each passing car, but after a while, I ceased worrying.</p><p>No one cared enough to stop and demand to know what I was doing on the streets.</p><p>Paranoia that I was being followed provided fuel for my legs, and I ate the distance up.</p><p>I lie.</p><p>Oh, I wish it was the truth, but I flagged by the second block, my legs aching. I should probably have waited a day to heal up, after all they only recently let me get up in a floating chair.</p><p>Still, I was nothing except tenacious. I wasn’t going to be the son of Sirius Black, I was going to forge my own way and I planned to see it through. A little pain wasn't going to stop me.</p><p>Also, it turned out I was not paranoid. I was definitely being followed. Sometimes I caught a glimpse of him in a passing window, a dark shape, flitting through the gloom. The dog was massive, taller than me, and midnight black with glowing red eyes. Which left only two options, didn’t it?</p><p>My initial fear that it was Lupin disappeared as soon as I got my ducks gathered in a row. I was a young, succulent werewolf snack. Like a mouthwatering rack of lamb. I was also still in one piece and all the books said werewolves were uncontrollable. Lupin wouldn’t be following me patiently.</p><p>I was not a snack for Sirius Black. I was his son.</p><p>Or so he thought.</p><p>I had seen his looks, the parental awe that he had made another being. There was nothing I could do except forge on.</p><p>He didn’t make a move to stop me but was definitely the reason I managed to slip safely through the dark city. Anyone that approached me, quickly veered away when a low growl sounded at my back, and I in turn sped up to a jog without turning to look.</p><hr/><p>The sky was growing pale, and I was running on fumes when I finally reached my goal. I’m not ashamed to say I nearly cried in relief. It was my home and also not.</p><p>Here’s my thought process. If there was a doppelgänger of me in this world, then more things should be similar. Such as my flat. All I needed was to not be on the streets, and the rest I could sort from there. Right?</p><p>'But…' you say, waving a confused hand at me, probably trying to indicate my new age in a funny way. I know. <em>I know, I know.</em> I said it was my thought process, I didn’t say it was a logical thought, did I?</p><p>The block of flats had a fresh coat of paint, something it hadn’t seen in years when I moved in. I didn’t let that discourage me. In I went, not stopping to pause, past the lobby with its black checkered tile, and up to the third floor. Three-oh-nine.</p><p>The extra key was in the same spot I always hid mine, under the fire extinguisher two doors down. That was enough to convince me I had it right. I didn’t pay any attention to the fact that it wasn’t my key. Or my lock. (The one I had changed after a bad break-up that shall never be mentioned again.) I struggled with the copper disk in the unfamiliar lock, pinching my small, baby-soft fingers, and swore.</p><p>A shadow moved at the far end of the corridor, and I put more force into it. </p><p><em>Not now, damn it! I’ve come so far!</em> </p><p>There! It turned!</p><p>I flung the door open, snapped the lightswitch on, and rushed inside.</p><hr/><p>So desperately did I want this to be my flat, that I might have looked past the collection of porcelain milkmaid figurines that spanned the wall, but I couldn't manage to do the same with the banshee. </p><p>Dressed in a fluffy pink nightgown and bunny slippers, she sported a white-knuckled grip on a cricket bat.</p><p>“Piss off!” she screeched.</p><p>Then her volume rose to painful decibels.</p><p>“I’ve called the police!” she shouted, and swung the bat.</p><p>If I had been an adult, I would have been brained quite thoroughly.</p><p>As it was, she swung too high, and connecting nothing, she had no option but to go with the momentum. My head was saved, but the vase on the sideboard next to me smashed spectacularly, showering me with shards. She turned a near full circle.</p><p>“Thieves! Hooligans! Help!” she shouted as she came round and corrected her aim lower.</p><p>I ducked, and the bat skidded off the sideboard with a dull thud.</p><p>“Help!" she screeched. "Rape! I’ll not be having any from you! Leprechaun or not!” she shouted and raised the bat again, going for the third time being the charm.</p><p>She never made it. </p><p>The Grim that had followed me half the length of London burst from the shadows with a guttural growl, the enormous dog morphing into Sirius as he leapt. He straightened beside me, a tall, imposing wizard in a black robe, and if it was even possible, her screams rose higher.</p><p>Sirius settled his hand on my head, pointed his wand at her, and a yellow light burst from the gleaming black wood, arresting her mid-swing.</p><p>Blessed silence.</p><p>She looked to be petrified where she stood: a pink demon, eyes bulging in demented wrath, ready to continue her tirade the moment she was released. I sagged against Sirius.</p><p>Holy fuck.</p><p>I expected him to shout. To rail at me. I probably would have if I was in his shoes. No, if I was in his shoes the kid wouldn’t have been able to set a foot out of the hospital. Wizards did not act like normal people.</p><p>“Do you know her?” Sirius asked.</p><p>He did not disappoint in the 'not normal people' department. He sounded mildly curious only, and patted my head, dusting a few shards out of my hair.</p><p>“No.” </p><p>I had never seen her in my life. Or the very feminine apartment and its '80s decor behind her. The shell might be mine in twenty years, but it was not now. It had been a useless trip.</p><p>“Did you need anything from here?” Sirius asked.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then it's time to go,” he said and barked what sounded like ‘Obliviate’ at her.</p><p>I watched fascinated as her eyes slowly glassed over and her jaw dropped. Her body sagged, but she didn’t fall. </p><p>Sirius removed the bat from her hand. He settled it next to the wall and lowered her arms to her sides. She gave him a slow, creepy blink. He finished up by repairing her vase and cabinet with a casual flick of his wand.</p><p>I let him nudge me out.</p><hr/><p>He locked the door behind us and retrieved the key. At the fire extinguisher, he paused, forcing me to do the same with his hand still firmly on my head, and he returned the key to its hiding spot.</p><p>Down we went and out.</p><p>I tried to generate some energy to shake the wizard off, but I felt strangely empty. I figured I felt somewhat like our victim, but without the glassy eyes. Or maybe with, I had no mirror.</p><p>Too tired and despondent to care right then, I let Black decide where we should go, and he chose the park a block back in the direction from which we had come. Once there, he prompted me to sit on a bench before settling with a sigh next to me.</p><p>If I never had to walk again, it would be too soon. I pulled my feet up and hugged my aching knees. That was one nice thing about being a kid: curling into a ball was as easy as it was comforting.</p><p>I was an idiot.</p><p>I don’t know what I thought I would find in my old apartment.</p><p>Sirius put his head back to look up at the sky. For a while we just sat there, and I was starting to think he might never speak when he asked, “Did you and your mum live there?”</p><p>Ugh.</p><p>“James? Did you and your mum live here?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Do you want to tell me why you came here?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>It was all too exhausting. Perhaps tomorrow I might rail at the unfairness of it all, but right this moment all I wanted was a bed.</p><p>Black gave my shoulder a soft squeeze.</p><p>“You can tell me anything, Jamie,” he encouraged above my head, a note of concern creeping into his voice. “Don’t be scared.”</p><p>“I’m not scared.” </p><p>I was tired. Fine, I couldn’t fix this but there was something else I could sort. In my agitation I shouted louder than I should have but there was no stopping it.</p><p>“I don’t care what they told you! I’m not imagining I’m from a book, I’m really from another world. I’m not allowed to say why I came here or anything else, so I can’t convince anyone, and they said I was going to forget it all and there’s nothing I can do to stop it! <em>Also, I’m not your son and I don’t want to be!”</em></p><p>That may have been too harsh.</p><p>
  <em>“Sorry!”</em>
</p><p>“It’s fine,” Sirius Black said, patting my back.</p><p>I deflated like a spent balloon.</p><p>“Is it?”</p><p>“Yes. Don’t be sorry. You’ve been through a lot, Jamie. It’s natural to feel this way. You don’t know me and I’m not the most… not at my best right now. It’s understandable that you don’t want me as your dad.”</p><p>Ah, that just made me feel bad. Time to backpedal.</p><p>“You’re fine. It’s not you, it’s me.”</p><p>“No, it’s not you. I'm glad you told me what's on your mind." He slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me to his side. The warmth was welcome and I couldn’t help but relax. “Where to next? Do you have other places to see about? Or do you want to sit a while?”</p><p>There was one more thing I could try. </p><p>"I want to take a train ride.”</p><p>That was my last hope.</p><p>"The five-thirty from Euston to Watford Junction.”</p><p>“That specific one?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>I didn’t know if it would matter. I didn’t even know why I was doing it. I only had the Potters’ word on it that I agreed. If I did, I didn’t agree to be a child again. I didn’t agree to forgetting my whole life before this as if it had meant nothing. My friends, my family, my mother.</p><p>“Let’s go,” Sirius Black said.</p><hr/><p>I woke up in bed. I was back in the hospital. The second bed was empty and I wondered where Sirius was. The window was still enlarged, and the sun was shining as bright as London would let it.</p><p>Snippets of the night came back to me. There had been no train scheduled for that exact time, at some point in the future the timetables must have changed, but Sirius Black proceeded to throw the British railway into a tailspin for me. 'It would be absolutely idiotic if we don't use Magic,' he had said.</p><p>Schedules were changed, ticket sellers and conductors confounded, and passengers were simply obliviated. Though quite a few were oblivious on their own and barely noticed the change. He got me on the right train at the right time and then even changed himself into his animagus form because sleep-deprived five-year-old me insisted there had been a dog.</p><p>It was time to face it. I might not have wanted it but I had been given a start to a new life. Okay, it was one where I was a child that cried into a Grim’s fur that he didn’t want to forget, and was rocked to sleep with flickering magical images of little sheep jumping over a hedge as entertainment but some of that could be improved on. </p><p>Less crying for one.</p><p>And yes, maybe I would like a dad. I had missed having one on the first go-around. It had been an empty spot in all my life, and if last night had done nothing else, it taught me that Black would not be such a bad one.</p><p>Where was everyone?</p><hr/><p>I didn’t have to wait too long. Davies came first, and I pulled a disappointed face at him.</p><p>“Hello, James. Quite the adventure you had last night, hm?” he said. “How are you feeling?”</p><p>“Am fine.” </p><p>And to my surprise, I was.</p><p>“That’s excellent. I believe if you promise to drink all your potions at home, we might be ready to discharge you.”</p><p>“Excellent,” Sirius echoed from the door. He was dressed in a dark blue muggle suit that looked brand new and carried a small package. “I’m about done with this place, Jamie. Are you ready to go?”</p><p>“You still want me?”</p><p>“Why wouldn’t I?”</p><p>“Because you know I am not your son.”</p><p>“James. I am your dad; there is no doubt about it in anyone else’s mind, only yours.”</p><p>Seriously?</p><p>“You still don’t believe me?”</p><p>“It’s not so simple. I understand that you say you came from another world, and the world is full of mysteries so I will not tell you it isn’t true—”</p><p>“But that’s what you’re doing if you say you’re my dad anyway!”</p><p>“No it isn’t. Your reality is the other world and mine is that you’re my son, and if at some point you want me to be your dad also, despite not being from here, I think we will manage fine. Don’t you?”</p><p>“I don’t know.”</p><p>“Well, I do. Let that be enough for now. I brought you a gift, would you like to see?”</p><p>Of course I did and I said so. Davies left us to it.</p><hr/><p>His gift was a book. I tried my best to not be disappointed and thanked him politely, turning it over in my small hands. It was dark blue leather, and decorated with a lifelike tree in which a small, puffy owl hooted and moved about, blinking its enormous yellow eyes at me.</p><p>“It’s not any book,” Sirius said. “It’s a diary. You can write everything you know in it and it will never run out of pages or fade. Write everything that you think you’ll forget.”</p><p>Oh. He really did want to try. I blinked some stupid tears back. </p><p>“It will not write back, will it?”</p><p>“Write back? No, it won't. Best of all is its secret.” He held out his wand. “Take this, tap the owl on the head, and put your hand on the cover, then it wont open for anyone else no matter what.”</p><p>His wand felt slick in my hand and gave off faint sparks. The owl thought itself funny and hid behind the leaves at first but finally stopped to let me tap it. I put my hand on the book and it gave my palm a big fat lick which was impossible for a real owl to do, I had seen with Simon, his tongue was rigid and did not move like ours.</p><p>I shook the book slime off my palm, returned Sirius’s wand and asked him to open the diary. He tried without success. Just to be sure he wasn’t playing the ‘fool the kid game’, I asked Smith to do the same when he came.</p><p>“Alright,” Sirius said. “Shall we go home?”</p><p>“Where is that?”</p><p>“Islington. Our ancestral home.”</p><p>I knew my Harry Potter. Islington held 12 Grimmauld Place. I would get to see Kreacher, and his mother’s portrait, and doxies, and wasn’t there a boggart? Don’t forget the mounted house-elf heads! And best of all I don’t have to be concerned anymore about what anyone thought of me. They thought I was nutters already. And no more hospitals. I threw the blanket off and sat up. </p><p>“When are we going?”</p><p>“As soon as you’re dressed.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. A moody day</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Apparating was like being on a rollercoaster with the coaster going at full velocity while your feet stayed glued to the ground. The only thing stopping me from breaking in two was Sirius’s tight grip on my hand. We appeared on a cobbled street in front of a row of houses, the world tilted before turning right side up and I couldn’t help myself. </p><p>“Again!” At least I didn’t clap my hands.</p><p>Sirius laughed.</p><p>“Let me get some strength back first. I haven’t done this much magic in years. Welcome to our home, Jamie.”</p><p>Sadly it was his last laugh of the day and there was little welcome. Dropping my hand, he opened the battered door and we entered into a gloomy foyer full of cobwebs.</p><p>I forgot all about Sirius. Like a tourist, I immediately twisted to see the troll-foot that was used as an umbrella stand and the smelly, green-grey monstrosity with hairy toes did not disappoint. Satisfied, I twisted back again to search for Walburga’s portrait, spied the rows of mounted house-elf heads, gasped in delight, and saw the one lone elf standing and staring at us with bulbous, tennis-ball-sized eyes. None of it disappointed. I hopped excitedly on the spot, reminded of when Harry first came to Grimmauld. I would get to see Buckbeak!—oh, no I wouldn’t. We were not doing that.</p><p>What we were doing was seeing a curtain flap on the wall and getting our first view of Walburga Black, Sirius’s mother. Old as dust with yellowing skin, her eyes rolled up to show dirty whites and she looked demonic. She started screaming as soon as she saw us.</p><p>“You!” she shouted at Sirius. “Blood traitor! Abomination! Shame of my flesh!”</p><p>All along the wall the other portraits woke and added their shouts to hers in a cacophony of vile insults.</p><p>The noise was so much I clapped my hands over my ears.</p><p>And here is the bit I was ashamed of. It was exactly like the books and I was in awe.</p>
<hr/><p>Not so Sirius. Unlike me he had no forewarning, his mother had died while he was in Azkaban, and before that he hadn’t seen her since he left school and went to stay with the Potters. At most he expected dust and disrepair. Her screeching stopped him in his tracks and when the Portraits and Kreacher joined in, Sirius’s hand clamped on my arm and he pushed me in behind him. Here I clapped my hands over my ears and that was his cue to pick me up and carry me back out.</p><p>Then we came to the second part that I was not so proud of.</p><p>I yelled, “Noo! I want to see! Let me see!”</p><p>I wish I could say that was it, but I added to my shame and kicked, flailing my arms.</p><p>We walked straight into Remus, carrying bags of groceries.</p><p>“Siri!”</p><p>“Not now, Remus,” Sirius growled, gripping me too tight. Behind us, the cacophony was still going at full strength. “Go away!”</p><p>“I can’t,” the wolf said. “Please. Let me explain.”</p><p>It felt like I was in the middle of a soap opera. I was siding with Sirius, by the way.</p><p>Inside, his mother had moved on from the shame Sirius had brought on her loins and started on me and my muddy blood, and Black tensed.</p><p>He turned back to the house and I was all for going with him and said so, but the damn wizard thought differently and passed me over to Remus like I was so much of a package, making the wolf drop his bags to catch me.</p><p>He barked, “Keep him outside!” and stormed back in.</p><p>The door slammed behind him with an ear-deafening bang and brought me back to my senses.</p><p>“Let me go,” I ordered Remus.</p><p>Remus tightened his grip on me and said, “That would not be a good idea, Jamie.”</p><p>A crash sounded inside and Sirius’s voice joined in the fray; we could hear him call Walburga a vile hag that was nothing but a product of inbreeding and should have been throttled at birth.</p><p>Trying to mask their row, Remus asked in a desperate, too loud voice, “Do you want an apple?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“I brought apples, would you like one?”</p><p>“No, I wouldn’t like a damn apple, let me go!”</p><p>I flailed and kicked out at him, and this one I was not ashamed of, I was fed up with being handled, and had no interest in being held like a kid. It wasn’t to go play tourist, I had no intention to go put myself between Sirius’s wand and whatever he was pointing at, I just wanted to get down, and said so.</p><p>“I’ll put you down but you can’t go inside,” the wolf said.</p><p>And, to make sure I couldn’t, he cast a locking charm at the door before he dropped me to my feet.</p><p>“Don’t worry, nothing will happen to your dad, he’s just letting off some steam.”</p><p>I would have liked to let off some steam myself, and nearly kicked his shin. Instead, I scowled at him.</p><p>“He’s not my dad.”</p><p>“Is that so?” he asked absently, his attention on the house.</p><p>“You didn’t have to lock it, I wasn’t going inside.”</p><p>“That’s good.”</p><p>I could have been a fly for all the attention he paid me. We could easily follow the bangs and crashes up and down the house. Either Sirius was overdoing it or he was using the moment to get rid of some pent-up aggression. Or maybe he was chasing Kreacher.</p><p>At one point the roof rattled.</p><p>It went on long enough that I sat down between the discarded groceries and picked out an orange. We had missed lunch to leave the hospital faster, something I regretted now.</p>
<hr/><p>When Sirius came out his eyes were manic, his clothes smoldered and there was blood on his sleeve. I prayed it was just rats.</p><p>“We will stay with you,” he informed Remus. “The kid can’t stay here.”</p><p>Neither of us argued. He picked me up and I did not protest. Have you ever walked down the street past a rabid stray and decided it was better not to whistle or make large moves? If not, I’m sure you can imagine it.</p><p>“Same place?” Sirius barked.</p><p>“No,” Remus was already scooping up bags. “Hang on, I’ll apparate us.”</p><p>The two danced awkwardly around each other but when Sirius made an impatient sound, Remus grabbed hold of his wrist and disapparated us.</p><p>We appeared in the middle of a small, messy garden, facing a dilapidated country cottage, and followed Remus in. </p><p>“I’m sorry, it’s not much,” Remus said and nattered on about it being difficult times.</p><p>Sirius ignored him and prowled through the house, me a hapless passenger.</p><p>He was right. It was not much. Paint peeled everywhere you looked and there were damp spots on the ceiling. The kitchen was bare except for a table and some mismatched chairs, the sitting room held one sofa and a cold cup of coffee on the floor next to it. Upstairs there was a bath and two bedrooms, one clearly inhabited, the bed still messy, the second held a basic cot with a bare mattress. Sirius went into that one.</p><p>He turned around to Remus that had been following on our heels, apologetic about everything.</p><p>“Stop talking,” he told Remus. “For god’s sake be quiet a moment,” he said, sounding strained.</p><p>A second time this day he passed me over to the wolf.</p><p>“Keep him out.”</p><p>I was both glad to be passed off and irritated at the same time, but Black’s agitation was enough to keep me quiet when he pushed us out. I caught a glimpse of a dark shape before the door closed between us with a snap and the smell of dog.</p><p>“Let me down.”</p><p>“You can’t go insi—”</p><p>“Did I say I wanted to? Just let me down. I don’t want to be carried by you.”</p><p>I don’t know how I could say it any clearer.</p><p>He lowered me to the floor as if I was the fragile one here.</p><p>“It’s been one thing after another for your dad, I think we need to give him some time to himself.” Remus rubbed his neck. “You and I will do fine, yes?”</p><p>I didn’t bother to tell him Sirius was not my dad.</p>
<hr/><p>We had lunch. Remus made me a cheese sandwich and insisted I eat an apple after. If he had asked, I would have had no problem, but he made a whole spiel on apples being healthy before cutting it up for me in baby-sized slices. </p><p>To get him back for that I told him he looked as if he never ate apples and suggested he ate what he cut. Unlike Sirius, he didn’t have it in him to stare me down and since there was no way he could force me to do what he wanted, I won that round.</p><p>What? Sirius was out of action so I had to step in and make it hard for the man who had left him to rot in Azkaban. We were here because we had no other place to go, not because ‘Siri’ had forgiven him.</p><p>I made him take a plate up to Sirius even though he wanted to be alone; Sirius needed a few good meals and he couldn’t afford to skip any, mood or not.</p><p>“What will we do now?” I asked when he came down, looking harried, having been barked at. </p><p>His house didn’t have any entertainment and I suddenly missed my laptop.</p><p>“I have work, and I think it’s best if you came with me,” Lupin said, waving his wand to call a parchment and quill over. “I’ll write your dad a note and we’ll be off. Did you wash your hands?”</p><p>I curled my lip at him. What work did he have? Years in the future Dumbledore will save him from squalor somewhere in Yorkshire and give him a job but that was obviously not now. Times seemed to be bad for the wolf but not so hard yet.</p><p>“It’s a short walk, do you feel up to it?” he asked.</p><p>It was a muggy summer’s day and perfect to be out. I did not answer but followed him, still intending to give him the hard time that Sirius couldn’t do in his present condition, but frankly, I was happy to get out of his depressing cottage. It’s been a while since I went to the countryside; when you worked nights you tended to forget how to live, and dawdling behind Remus now, I breathed deeply for the first time in days.</p><p>Outside his rickety gate, we turned left into a footpath and trundled past hedges that obscured the countryside. For me anyway, Remus was tall enough to see over. I was curious to know where we were going but figured I would find out soon enough.</p><p>We crossed over a bridge and this time I couldn’t help myself and asked curious, “What river is this?”</p><p>“The Ottery. We’re in Devon right now, outside Ottery—”</p><p>“St Catchpole,” I finished for him. </p><p>We were back to Fate or the ‘Powers That Be’ fucking with me, but this time I was fine with it.</p><p>“So you know it?” Remus asked, half turning to look back at me. </p><p>I ignored him and he turned back with a sigh to walk on. We passed a meadow, and I wondered about his definition of ‘short’ but soon came upon a stone wall. Keeping it to our left, Remus led us along it to an oak gate.</p><p>I didn’t dare hope. I crossed my fingers behind my back and peered around him to see, and was met with a cobbled courtyard filled with an abundance of plants. Hidden deeper was a thatched farmhouse overgrown with ivy. So not the Weasleys then. Still, we were in Ottery and if Sirius decided to stay here I might see them yet. If ever there was a family that looked exciting it was them and I could dearly do with some fun.</p><p>Passing through the garden I realised I was going to suffer in herbology. I didn’t even know regular plants, all I was sure of was the roses, and here a purple, bell-shaped flower was tinkling what sounded like Jingle Bells at me, and did that one stick its tongue out? Why did a flower need a tongue?</p><p>There was no time to look closer, for we were near the house and a chubby, rosy-cheeked little blond-haired boy came running out a side door.</p><p>“Mr Lupin! Grandmother thought you weren’t coming today!” he shouted from far, and made a comical windmill armed stop when he saw me. “You brought someone!”</p><p>“Yes, I did. Neville Longbottom, meet young James Black,” Remus said.</p><p>“Taylor. James Taylor,” I corrected.</p><p>The man was an arse. And I’m not young, I wanted to say but kept it to myself. I was tired of protesting and what did this boy care anyway? This boy who was Neville Longbottom! I had to pinch myself not to go into tourist mode again.</p><p>“How d-do you do,” Neville said, blushing beet red, and held a pudgy hand out for a shake. “Are you here to study with me? Grandmother didn’t say.”</p><p>“He isn’t,” Remus answered for me while I shook hands. “Or he wasn’t. I’m looking after him for the afternoon, but what a splendid idea!”</p>
<hr/><p>The last thing I needed was to be tutored, especially by him, but I was curious enough to see everything and I followed them into the house.</p><p>Mrs Longbottom, Neville’s grandmother, met us in the sunroom which they seemed to be using as a greenhouse. Every inch was filled with plants, bags of soil, empty ceramic pots, and it smelled like a humid meadow. Despite her gardening gloves and the fact that she was potting seedlings, she looked formidable and I quaked a bit in my sneakers when her sharp eyes fell on me. She had taken Harry’s side, I remembered, and for that I put my best foot forward.</p><p>This time I was introduced correctly and I shook her hand, her skin paper dry, and said my how do’s politely. I caught Remus raising his eyebrows at me and I scowled at him. She peered at me curiously for a moment, said she hoped I would not disturb Neville in his studies as he needed all the help he could get, and sent us off all in under a minute.</p><p>Neville had a proper schoolroom on the first floor with a blackboard, a teacher’s desk, and a smaller one for himself. One wall was covered in books and the opposite had a bank of tall windows and a deep window seat stuffed with pillows. I went to look out, kneeling on the seat to see better, and saw a kitchen garden and barns with fields stretching into the distance. I will be honest that I was quite jealous and tried not to compare it with my old flat and its view of another flat in the city.</p><p>“Did you do your homework?” Remus was asking Neville.</p><p>“Yes, twice! Grandmother checked it,” the kid said. “She made me do it again.” </p><p>He scrabbled for the sheaves of parchment he had stuffed into the desk.</p><p>“Well, I would like to see both efforts then if you don’t mind,” Remus said and when Neville went off to search he turned to me.</p><p>“I won’t be taught."</p><p>“You might be quite bored otherwise.”</p><p>“I won’t.” I sat down properly and gestured to the window. “I’ll be fine.”</p><p>“If that’s what you want. Can you read?”</p><p>I scowled.</p><p>He waved his wand at the bookcase and sent a slim book over to drop it on the seat next to me. </p><p>"In case you get bored with the view."</p><p>Remus missed my next scowl as he was already turning to Neville who had returned triumphant with crumpled parchment in his little fist, shouting, “Ninny was going to use it for compost!”</p><p>“Neville!” his grandmother called from downstairs. “We do not shout!”</p><p>“Yes, Grandmother!”</p><p>It was perfectly ridiculous and I loved them. Remus’s lined face shone with suppressed humour before his mouth turned down into its perpetually sad mien and he and Neville got on with it. </p><p>Seeing that, I tried to not feel too guilty for how I was behaving with the wizard but decided to pick up his book to make him win one. The tale of Peter Rabbit by Beatrix Potter. The little white rabbit twitched its nose and munched on a carrot and when I put the book close to my ear I could hear the crunch.</p><p>I spent a lovelier afternoon than I thought I would. I looked my fill of the Devon countryside, reading in between. Each time I finished a book another thin volume would float over, and neither Remus nor I acknowledged it. All were delightful magical versions of classical children’s books that put me in a nostalgic mood.</p><p>Remus, in turn, was instructing Neville on the art of essay writing. He snuck a history lesson into it, I think, as the subject was the Soap Blizzard of 1378, and made him research in their little ‘school library’. </p><p>I pretended not to listen but it was quite interesting. He was a natural teacher.</p><p>Augusta Longbottom called us to tea and quizzed both Neville and Remus on what they had achieved as if Remus was a schoolboy himself. Neville’s stutter increased and I felt sorry for the boy, up until she suddenly asked me if I had spent my time productively, and I nearly stuttered myself. “</p><p>"Yes, Mrs Longbottom. I read some books.”</p><p>“You may call me Aunt Augusta, James. We are family.”</p><p>“We are?”</p><p>“Ask your father.”</p><p>The topic was closed. She asked Remus what books he had given me, and offered advice.</p><p>We returned to the schoolroom, Neville for math, and I to the window seat for a nap, falling asleep to the repetitive drone of numbers. I should just call the kid to come agonise over the times table whenever I have insomnia.</p>
<hr/><p>“You know, I’m not such a bad guy,” Remus said on the way home.</p><p>He stopped at the oak gate to look at me. He had offered to carry sleepy me or to apparate us, and I had refused somewhat rudely. </p><p>"You can be nice to me, right?”</p><p>I considered it. I didn’t know him personally, at least not the ‘him now’, for me he was still very much a character in a book. From what I did remember he had always been on the sidelines, not partaking but not stopping either. We can debate on whether he was bad or not, but sidelines meant that sometimes you let a friend go to jail without checking if he was innocent. </p><p>“I’ll be nice to you when Sirius is.”</p><p>He sighed and his hangdog look returned.</p><p>“Fair enough. Shall we go home?”</p><p>“Whatever.”</p><p>I scowled at him to make sure he suffered and followed him out.</p><p>Would we find Sirius or Padfoot at home?</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Cats are better</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sirius was still absent when we reached the cottage.</p><p>“Leave your dad be,” Remus said when I made a beeline for the stairs.</p><p>“I don’t have to listen to you.” </p><p>I evaded him and jogged up. ‘Leave him be’ was sideline advice, and until he proved himself I wasn’t going to consider much that came out of his mouth.</p><p>Azkaban. What I knew of it besides for dementors which was bad on its own level, was it starved its prisoners and worse if we had to go on the physical bruises. Black barely able to talk like a normal person at first, said a lot too. I found it amazing that he pulled himself together so quickly but that was probably for my sake and now that Remus was here to pick up the slack, he might not bother. He was out of Azkaban but was he saved yet?</p><p>I stopped in the doorway. He was currently curled up in the corner of Lupin’s second bedroom as the largest dog I had ever seen. The night before had passed in a sleepy haze and I thought I’d imagined the size of him. Had I been scared then too? He opened yellow eyes and curled his lip showing extra-large bitey teeth.</p><p>He didn’t growl or bark like he did with Lupin earlier but I suddenly couldn’t fathom what I was trying to do here. He can save himself, right?</p><p>Remus came up behind me, and this time Sirius did growl, a menacing sound that had all my hair standing on end. I quickly entered and closed the door in Lupin’s face. Sirius lowered his head on his paws and stared at me unblinking.</p><p>What should I do? Last night he had sat quietly beside me and let me do my thing but something told me that he might have enough of that after six years of quiet. It’s probably fine as long as I don’t shout. Well, he could only bite me and I’ll spend another day or so in St Mungo’s, yes?</p><p>All right, James, this isn’t the diary of a wimpy kid. Get to it. I edged closer and said the first thing that came to mind. Which was truly idiotic. </p><p>“My, what big eyes you have, Granny?”</p><p>The Grim blinked. My knees knocked together. In for a penny in for a pound.</p><p>I made my voice deeper. <em>“All the better to see you with, dear.”</em></p><p>He huffed, a pure amused dog sound.</p><p>It was amazing that a person could turn himself into an animal.</p><p>“My, what big ears you have, Granny?” I continued with the silliness, stepping over to him.<em> “All the better to hear you with, dear.”</em></p><p>I stopped next to him.</p><p>“My, what big teeth you have, Granny?”</p><p>He huffed.</p><p>I waited.</p><p>Nothing.</p><p>Well, it was silly anyway. But I was right next to him and he didn’t look as if he was going to eat me.</p><p>“Can I sit with you?”</p><p>No answer.</p><p>The yellow eyes closed.</p><p>I took that as a yes and plopped myself on the floor next to him. Now what? More stories? I certainly read enough at Neville’s.</p><p>I let my mouth decide, it’s been doing a smashing job so far. </p><p>“Can I touch you?”</p><p>No move so I took that as another yes and carefully reached out to the black fur. I don’t know why I expected him to be dirty; it was clean and soft. Magic right? It was not a real dog, it didn’t have to reflect all the bruises and scabs he had.</p><p>“You know, it's okay to be a dog when you want to chill, right? Nobody is expecting you to just shrug off what happened. Just maybe don’t stay like this too long, or you might think you’re back in that place or something.”</p><p>He growled softly. Okay. So I won’t try to impart some wisdom. That didn’t mean I had to go. I went all in and scooted closer to slump against him.</p><p>“I never wanted a dog. Is that bad? I am going to be honest here, I like cats more, they don’t lick.”</p><p>He didn’t protest my weight so I took it another step further and scratched my fingers through his fur, combing it gently.</p><p>“Cats do have an awful habit of sicking up hairballs so they’re not all great.”</p><p>I was interrupted by a mental picture of McGonagall sicking up and paused to snicker. It came out as a childish giggle. Yeah, this was my life now.</p><p>“But I like owls the best now. Are we going to stay here? It’s nice but it has Remus, and if he’s going to bother you that much that you turn into a dog—I heard you barking at him—then maybe we should go somewhere else. Neville’s grandmother said we’re family, maybe she will take us in.”</p><p>“Augusta is a battle-axe,” Black said above my head and I realised the fur was gone and I was sitting against cloth and being hugged by the wizard. “I’ll not survive her.”</p><p>“Jesus!”</p><p>I flailed about and was laughed at. There was no one to see so I slumped back against him.</p><p>“I think she’s nice.”</p><p>“Do you?” he said.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>It was probably the first time I had managed to shock him which was fair play for what he had done to me just now. I had imagined some screaming and bone-crackish morphing, not this. But I didn’t want to talk about her.</p><p>“Are we staying here?”</p><p>“For now.”</p><p>“Even if you don’t like Remus?”</p><p>“That doesn’t matter. We’re not going back to the city. The… air here is better.”</p><p>“You can’t smell anything just in the room. Where will you sleep? Harry and I can share this room but that leaves only one more bedroom. Would Remus share with you? Would you even want to? You can sleep with us, maybe we can make a bunk bed for us and you can get the cot.”</p><p>“Wait. Stop. Stop a moment, James,” Sirius said.</p><p>I froze, remembering him telling Remus to be quiet. Was I making too much noise? Was he going to turn back? But it wasn’t that. </p><p>“What are you talking about?” Sirius asked. “Harry, who?”</p><hr/><p>What? I turned to see him better.</p><p>“Harry Potter. Your godson. Did you forget?”</p><p>Wait until the Potters heard that!</p><p>“Ah. Yes, I did. Why would he need a bed here?”</p><p>We stared at each other. He looked as confused as I felt. James and Lily had just accepted that he would be fetching Harry, or wait, that was me. They wanted the stone.</p><p>I tried to say, <em>Because he is being abused by the Dursleys and needs a better home, </em>but no words came out.Okay then, I was still playing goldfish.</p><p>“James?” Sirius asked when I took too long. “Why does Harry Potter need a bed here and how do you know about him?”</p><p>That one was easy.</p><p>“Everyone knows about him.” </p><p><em>I read the books. I can tell you everything that will happen</em>—ah, fuck.</p><p>“Shouldn’t you take him in? Isn’t that what a godfather is supposed to do when a kid becomes an orphan?”</p><p>“If he had no other family, sure. But Lily had a sister—I forgot her name—and he would be with her.”</p><p><em>But they’re not good to him!</em> </p><p>“But what if they were not good to him, if they abused him, then you will take him, right?”</p><p>“They would not. You don’t have to worry about this.”</p><p>“You can’t be so sure!”</p><p>“Jamie, he’s living with Lily’s sister, he is fine. She’s not going to do anything to him, they’re family.”</p><p>So said the man who had been a dog the whole day because of his. Was he listening to himself? Could I say anything about it without putting him in another tailspin? Then we would have another day with him as a dog and Harry in the closet. Would Harry still be in there, though? He might. I vaguely remember him being in there a week once. Better not delay. </p><p>“Can we at least go check?”</p><p>“No. There’s no reason for us to bother the kid. We are not going to take him in and I doubt the kid will be impressed with us if we removed him from the only family he’s known. And we have enough to deal with.” He stood up and pulled me along. “You need dinner and a bath, and we need to fix this room for you. If you’re looking for a playmate then the Longbottom’s kid, the one Remus is tutoring, will do. He should be around your age. What’s his name?”</p><p>“Neville. I’m not looking for a playmate. I just want you to go check that Harry is okay.”</p><p>He stopped. “Do you know something that you’re not telling me?”</p><p>Fish mouth moves. I growled and stomped my foot in irritation at the stupid rules, and Sirius took it wrong. He decided it was dinner and bed for grumpy little boys, and said so.</p><p>“It’s not even six!”</p><p>“We’ll have dinner then bath and by the time you get to bed it will be a decent hour.”</p><p>He scooped me up and carried me out of the room and down the stairs.</p><p>“I imagine remembering that seven is a good bedtime for kids your age.”</p><p>“It’s not. And I’m not grumpy!”</p><p>“Yes, you are,” Remus said from the kitchen doorway. “It’s easy to see who your dad is.”</p><hr/><p>I think he meant it as a joke. Neither Sirius nor I laughed. After an awkward silence, Remus straightened up and said he had made dinner if we would like.</p><p>Sirius was holding me too tight and said stiffly, “You didn’t have to go to the trouble, I’m well able to sort dinner.” Then he went for the kill. “We’ll not be adding ourselves to your… frayed pocket,” he said.</p><p>And just in case Remus had any confusion on what he meant he rotated in a slow circle to look around him and turned his nose up.</p><p>“We’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”</p><p>Well, he certainly changed his mind fast.</p><p>“It’s fine, Siri. You and your son are more than welcome here. I can manage.”</p><p>“Can you?”</p><hr/><p>And that was how it started. Of all the things to pick a fight about I don’t know why he chose Remus’s financial status, but that was what he did. Sirius had not one good word to say, so much so that I felt sorry for Remus by the end of it. I honestly don’t know why we were here if Sirius hated the man to this extent. Not once did Remus talk back when I would have kicked up quite a fuss let me tell you.</p><p>We were to eat in the kitchen. Remus had made a simple pasta and salad, not bad for homemade, and he dished it up while Sirius prowled around opening cupboards, looking inside. Most of it was bare and Remus quietly explained something about not needing more as he lived alone.</p><p>Sirius found a ceramic cookie container that had a few coins in it, said something acerbic about us paying our way and that we were to be lodgers, nothing else—honestly, he should make up his mind—and proceeded to tip handfuls of coins into it from his own pocket. Then he stormed out to the garden, leaving us at the table.</p><p>“Eat, please, Jamie,” Remus requested quietly, looking like a man on the way to the gallows.</p><p>“Thanks.” I picked up my fork. “It looks nice.”</p><p>What? You didn’t kick someone when they were already down.</p><p>For all my good intentions it ended up being the worst thing I could have said. Remus’s eyes melted and he hurriedly excused himself to go wash a cup in the sink with his back turned to me.</p><p>It was all giving me a headache, and when he followed Sirius out next and I heard them quarreling, I pushed my plate away in disgust.</p><p>Perhaps Harry was better off with the Dursleys.</p><hr/><p>Before long, Remus was replaced by Sirius who had decided to pretend all was fine. He took a seat next to me and filled a plate for himself.</p><p>“Eat, Jamie.”</p><p>Remus didn’t return.</p><p>Searching for something to break through the mood I remembered what Neville’s grandmother had said, and asked Sirius about our family tree. I was honestly curious about that; I had never known the Longbottoms were connected to the Blacks.</p><p>“Everyone is connected,” he said. “When you want to marry only pure-bloods the pool is limited. At least here in Britain. Let’s see, the Longbottoms…”</p><p>First cousins, second cousins, third cousins once, twice removed, his explanation took until dinner finished and left me confused, only able to catch a familiar name here and there. The Malfoys and the Weasleys were in the mix too. I must have gone cross-eyed at some point for he finished with, “Just call her aunt and her son cousin. It's the easiest. I was… encouraged to learn this all as a kid, but there’s no need for you.”</p><p>“Are we related to Harry Potter?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>He set his fork down. His plate was still untouched, I saw.</p><p>“Too far to count anyway and not by blood. Are you having a bit of hero-worship here, Jamie?” he asked. “I do not know who you’ve been listening to but Harry is a normal kid, just like you. He had nothing to do with saving us all, it was his parents.”</p><p>If he was a normal kid just like me then we were in for trouble. I was still struggling to get over the hero-worship accusation, and he used my silence to tell me that he hoped if I ever met the kid I wouldn’t fawn over him but treat him as I would any other.</p><p>“I’m not fawning!” I sputtered stupidly when he finished.</p><p>“I hope so. Are you done eating?”</p><p>I definitely was. Who could eat after that?</p><hr/><p>Sirius and I did embarrassing ‘prepare the kid for bed’ stuff. He brought forth two suitcases that Kingsley had given him of this world’s Janet and Jamie Taylor, one filled with child-sized clothes and I put the dead child’s clothes on trying not to think of it.</p><p>“Do you want to see the rest of the things?” Sirius asked. “There are some books and papers.”</p><p>“Not now.”</p><p>Another day. I was done with this one.</p><p>I watched in sleepy amazement as he transfigured the cot into a proper bed and he found some threadbare linen for it in the hall. By the time I hit the sheets I was exhausted, and he looked the same.</p><p>“Where will you sleep?” I asked.</p><p>“Here with you.”</p><p>The bed was too small for two. As a dog? I was too tired to ask but not too tired to beg.</p><p>“Please go see Harry.”</p><p>He pondered me for a moment, and I was just getting disheartened when he answered a slow, “Alright, I will.”</p><p>Finally.</p><p>“Tonight.” </p><p>“Yes, tonight. Sleep now.” </p><p>Outside it was twilight, the sun not yet done for the day, and he moved to pull the curtains in front of the windows. Strangely I had stopped minding the time and did not protest when he came and tucked the blankets tight around me, just the way I liked it.</p><p>Would he know where the house was? Better tell him just in case.</p><p>“4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”</p><p>I had no idea if I managed to say it out loud or whether it had been my goldfish imitation. I closed my eyes and slept.</p><p> </p><hr/>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Pompeii</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the morning I went down to find Sirius in the sitting room reading the paper, a stack more on a table beside his elbow. There was writing paraphernalia too but sadly no owl. The scene was very reminiscent of the morning we spent together in the hospital, he had even angled his chair to see out of the window. I thought he looked slightly more relaxed today but that could be me having had a good night’s rest myself; no healers waking me up with their rounds, no matter how quiet they tried to be, and no hospital noise was very welcome.</p><p>Sirius finished the paper, dropped it beside his chair, and picked up another. I wondered if he was trying to catch up with every day of the last six years.</p><p>“Why don’t you sit outside? Wouldn’t that be better?” I asked, forgetting Harry for the moment. “You missed it, right?”</p><p>He looked at me curiously and his answer was surprisingly candid.</p><p>“Perhaps tomorrow. It still feels strange,” he said and didn’t sound as if he meant it in a good way.</p><p>A clatter from the kitchen made him stiffen up. Guilt-ridden Remus, listening in. I’d love to ask Sirius why we were here if he couldn’t stand his old school friend anymore but wisely thought better of it. That brought me to someone else who wasn’t here. From my vantage point I could see the kitchen, Remus the only occupant, and I had just come from the bathroom so I knew they weren’t stashing him there.</p><p>“Where’s Harry?”</p><p>Sirius lowered the paper and gave me his full attention.</p><p>“In his home where he belongs.”</p><p>What the hell?</p><p>“What do you mean? You didn’t get him? Did you even go?”</p><p>“I said I would, didn’t I?”</p><p>“Okay, and?” Jesus this was like pulling teeth. “Why isn’t he here?”</p><p>“For the same reason I told you yesterday, James,” he said gently. “He is happy with his family.”</p><p>Either I was confused or this wasn’t the same world.</p><p>
  <em>“Did you actually talk to him?”</em>
</p><p>“No, I did not wake him up. I talked to his aunt and she let me sneak a look at him. He looks fine. Well-fed. Enough—”</p><p>Okay, something was definitely wrong here.</p><p>“His aunt did not scream at you?”</p><p>“Why would—”</p><p>“I bet you didn’t see him!”</p><p>“Enough, James.” The tone was that which he usually directed at Remus, and not used to it, it brought me up short. “Why would I lie?” Sirius asked. “I’ll not hear another word about Harry Potter unless you would like to spend the morning in your room.” He pointed me to the kitchen. “Go have breakfast.”</p><p>I had a very fast debate with myself. Mt Sirius looked on the verge of erupting, and I didn’t have Remus’s size or his wand to protect myself.</p><p>“Fine!”</p><p>I’ll do it myself. I don’t know what the hell he did last night or who he looked at but it damn well wasn’t Harry. Or Petunia. She screeched at every wizard and witch she saw, why wouldn’t she do the same to him? Defeated, but only for now, I stomped to the kitchen.</p><p>Remus had placed a plate of scrambled eggs and toast for me and was setting down a glass of milk.</p><p>“Harry Potter?” he asked.</p><p>I scowled at him.</p><p>“Ask him. I’m not to say another word!”</p><p>He did. Leaving me to my food he went and asked Sirius, “What’s this about, Harry?”</p><p>I gave him points for bravery but subtracted some because he was an idiot.</p><p>“James has this idea that Harry is in trouble,” Sirius snapped loud enough to make me hunch over my plate. “I looked in on him last night and he’s fine. Spoiled if anything. Did you at any time think to go see him? Or was it good riddance to him also?”</p><p>Remus said something in an undertone and Sirius blew up.</p><hr/><p>The garden seemed to be the place to fight. Good thing we didn’t have any close neighbours.</p><p>I already had a plan. It was the same as the one I had in the hospital. Plan B, do it yourself and fast, it simply needed to adjust to my new surroundings. Too far from London to do anything on foot, I needed transport and financial support. One of those was close at hand and I had a good idea on how to get the other.</p><p>Keeping an eye on the window through which I could see Sirius gesticulating wildly while Remus looked like he was offering himself to be the virgin sacrifice, I dragged my chair over to the cabinet that contained the cookie jar.</p><p>It was still there and filled with coins. I never remembered how much knuts, sickles, and galleons were worth and I stared at it now in dismay. Forget taking as little as possible but I can’t be jingling like a bell, I would have to take galleons. The Knight Bus was 11 sickles, a trip—that I did remember—13 to get a hot chocolate, and 15 to get a hotwater bottle and toothbrush of your choice. I would need to do a round trip and if all was well would bring Harry with me, so I had to take at least 3 galleons to be sure.</p><p>Feeling like so much of a thief, I grabbed three gold coins. They were surprisingly heavy in my little hand. Guilt adding weight to it I would have said if I was the fanciful sort, which I was not, it was gold, and gold was heavy.</p><p>Would they miss it? Had either of them counted it? It didn’t matter, I couldn’t simply take it. I couldn’t put it back either. The Potters hadn’t come last night like I thought they would, they might really have had only one shot at it, so I wouldn’t have them haunting me if I did nothing, but I couldn’t.</p><p>Another glance through the window showed me Sirius and Remus were still at it, wands out, which meant I had time to run to the living room, grab Sirius’s quill, and scribble an IOU. I did it hurriedly on a corner of his parchment—ink splashing everywhere. Why did they still need to write with quills? I tore it off and rushed back to the kitchen where I dropped it in the jar and placed it back. I was still on the counter, using the sink to wash away the evidence of my poor penmanship when magic crackled outside and the door slammed open on Sirius.</p><hr/><p>“What are you doing there?” Sirius asked when he spied me. He sounded right pissed.</p><p>The cheeky words—What does it look like?—burned on my tongue, but there was a level to my stupidity and it was not that.</p><p>"Washing my hands. I’m done eating.”</p><p>“No, you’re not. You don’t have to concern yourself with what we are doing,” he said.</p><p>I followed his eyes to where we could see Remus standing with his back to us and bowed shoulders. Was he crying? Wait, was Sirius thinking I had been spying on them?</p><p>“I wasn’t!” I protested with all the self-righteous fury of someone accused of the wrong crime.</p><p>“Don’t shout. And your plate is still full. Get back there and finish your food, you have a potion to take.”</p><p>Thank god for magical ink that didn’t stick to your skin. The last of it swirled down the drain as Sirius decided I was taking too slow and yanked me off the counter. Together with my chair, he swung me back to the table, dropping me feet first on its seat, and barked, “Sit!”</p><p>“You have to eat also,” I snapped back, not moving an inch.</p><p>Remus might think he had reason to keep quiet but I didn’t have to put up with this.</p><p>“You didn’t eat last night, and you have more potions than me!"</p><p>
  <em>“Lower your voice, I’ve had enough of shouting.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You should stop then, you’re the one doing most of it.”</em>
</p><p>Okay, I might have gone too far. The now-familiar rage twisted Sirius’s face into a terrible snarl and standing on the chair put me much too close to it...</p><p>I flinched.</p><p>Then I apologised.</p><p>“I’m sorry!”</p><p>Had you asked me what I was apologising for at that moment, I wouldn’t have been able to tell you. For flinching? Shouting? What the hell? Why was I apologising, he should!</p><p>“James… James,” Sirius said, having realised that he had fucked up and sounded even sorrier than I did.</p><p>Weren’t we a pair?</p><p>“Jamie, calm down, I’m not angry.”</p><p>“You are,” I said.</p><p>I seemed to have not learned my lesson the first time, but Sirius had turned a switch and was back to normal.</p><p>“Even if I am,” he said, trying for a soothing tone, “it’s not at you. Look, I’m taking a deep breath. You do the same, and both of us will sit and have our breakfast and drink our potions. I promise I will eat every bite. Let’s eat.”</p><p>And Remus, I wanted to say as I slowly settled down in my seat, keeping a wary eye on Sirius who did the same opposite me, one plate still missing its diner. It was the second time we had displaced the wolf from his table. But I didn't. Sirius was an active volcano, tap-dancing on a knife’s edge, faking it for me, and if I brought the wolf up now one of us was going to bleed. And I was the smallest.</p><p>Breakfast was high up there with some of the more uncomfortable meals I’ve had in my life—most of them involving the family of my ex—and if I wasn’t wary of making fast moves I would have shovelled it in to get it over with.</p><p>Somewhere during it, Sirius apologised yet another time and explained that he grew up in a house where everyone shouted. He promised not to make his parents’ mistakes.</p><p>I told him it was fine. It was not really. I wasn’t a child, so whatever mistakes he made would not influence me but Harry was a different case.</p><p>He did indeed have three potions. I hoped one of them was their equivalent to Valium. He drank them without pause while I still searched for the courage to take mine. This was the one with eyes. Green little eyes that reminded me of my task. I don’t know what the hell happened last night but Sirius had not seen Harry. It was time to fix this. I chugged the potion.</p><p>“I’m going to go play with Neville,” I said as soon as I did, still gagging at the aftertaste, and scooted off the chair. “See you later.”</p><p>“Not so fast!” Sirius called.</p><p>Remus, entering the stage, caught me at the backdoor to turn me around. I shook him off.</p><p>“Why?”</p><hr/><p>Mercifully, for I didn’t think I had strength for more issues today, Sirius didn’t object to my going but thought I needed someone to walk me there.</p><p>“I know the road,” I protested.</p><p>“Good, then you can show me also.”</p><p>For fuck’s sake.</p><hr/><p>It was an easy road to remember and I trotted ahead of him so that we didn’t have to speak. I kept waiting for Sirius to comment on the fact that I insisted I was an adult and here I was off going to play but he never did, and if you asked me that was more proof that he didn’t believe it.</p><p>We found Augusta in the front garden, pruning a topiary the muggle way. The plant was giggling with each cut and she looked as disgusted with it as I felt. She gave it a fast snip, it giggled again, and I thought I might sick up.</p><p>“You look fine for someone fresh out of Azkaban, Sirius Black,” Augusta Longbottom said on spying us.</p><p>She straightened up, her spine cracking alarmingly as she did. Remind me to ask Neville how old she was.</p><p>“Appearances can be deceiving, Augusta.”</p><p>“Quite. To what do we owe the pleasure?”</p><p>“Jamie would like to play with Neville, if he may.”</p><p>She turned her attention to me.</p><p>“Would he? Good morning, James.”</p><p>I was not above playing cute.</p><p>“Yes, please—good morning Aunt Augusta—if it’s not a bother,” I said, and in case Sirius wanted to restrict me to a time, added, “Until Remus comes.”</p><p>“I dare say Neville might enjoy it. You will find him in the schoolroom.”</p><p>I said my thank you’s and wished them both a polite goodbye. Evading Sirius’s suddenly laughing eyes, I took myself off to the schoolroom as fast as my stubby legs could carry me.</p><p>Neville was indeed there. He was standing in the middle of the room, waving a wand about. Oh, perfect. The one thing I desperately needed. I doubted the two wizards in my house would let me borrow theirs but I had put my money on Neville having his father’s wand already. To find him now with it surely meant Fate was smiling on my ventures today.</p><p>“Neville, I came to play with you.”</p><p>“Don’t bother. I’m a squib,” he said, the picture of desolation.</p><p>His little shoulders hung, his round face looked like an unhappy moon and even his knee-high socks were half-mast to fit the mood.</p><p>Oh...kay?</p><p>“No, you’re not.”</p><p>“Yes, I am.” He waved the wand at me but it could have been a stick for all it did. “See?”</p><p>“No, you’re not. What did you try to do just now, hex me?”</p><p>“Levitate you. But I can’t. Because I’m a squib.”</p><p>Ah, of course. The old golden standard. Leviosa. I will make sure to learn a different spell first.</p><p>“You’re not a squib, you’re seven. And even if you are, we can still play, right?”</p><p>“Everyone has accidental magic by the time they are seven. Everyone. I bet you had yours already.” He didn’t let me answer, which was probably for the better. “No one wants anything to do with squibs.” His bottom lip trembled. “Ninny will send me away.”</p><p>Okay, he lost me there.</p><p>“Your house-elf will send you away?”</p><p>“We don’t have a house-elf, and if we did, why would they send me away?”</p><p>The confusion brought him out of the slump at least.</p><p>“You said Ninny. It sounded like an elf name.”</p><p>“Oh.” He went back to his slump. “Ninny is Grandmother. She doesn’t like elves, says they have no spine. Like jello. Ninny likes to do things herself, she says a wand can make many tasks lighter if you bother to move your bum about also.”</p><p>Ah, Augusta. Would she really have told the kid she would send him away? That was harsh. I’d have to change my opinion of her. The kid was deep in the doldrums and there was one simple way to get boys his age out of it if only temporary and he had handed it to me on a plate.</p><p>“Oh, come on,” I said. “I bet she said arse.”</p><p>It worked a charm. Neville choked on his spit, snorted, and choked again, and when he got his breath back, he giggled.</p><p>“How’d you know?”</p><p>I couldn’t see her not saying arse but said, “She’s a grown-up, right? They say arse.”</p><p>It worked the second time also and he giggled again.</p><p>“Do you want to play?” I asked once he was done.</p><p>I hadn’t intended to, I came with the idea of swearing him into a secret pack or something, the Save Harry Club, perhaps, but seeing the kid now I couldn’t leave him like this. I’ve entertained the kids of my friends before, this would be no different.</p><p>“You really don’t care if I am a squib?”</p><p>“Sure, I don’t care if you’re a squib, but you’re not. What toys do you have?”</p><hr/><p>He had a whole playroom. With a house this size and only the two of them I shouldn’t have been surprised that a few rooms were dedicated to him. The room was large and airy, had more bookcases again but here half of that was filled with boxes and crates, all stuffed with the toys of generations. The floor had soft rugs and large pillows, there was a clear boy’s corner with an enormous train set on the one side and on the other a dollhouse that you could walk into. Had I really been five I would have ended up in the dollhouse with its tiny kitchen.</p><p>Everything was an organised mess and a kid’s dream. If you had friends to enjoy it with. Which seemed to not be the case with Neville. He stood in the middle of the room and looked unsure when I asked him which games were his favourite.</p><p>“I usually help grandmother in the garden. Or I study. I’m not very good at studying so I need to do lots of it.”</p><p>“You’re seven. You’re not supposed to be good at studying.” I was starting to like Augusta less and less. “Listen, I’ve only ever played Exploding Snap so I don’t know any of these toys, maybe you can show me?”</p><p>That got him started. Neville enjoyed being the older kid imparting his knowledge, and we explored the treasure chest that was his playroom. Once he got it that I was not here to play with the toys only but with him and the toys, he loosened up some more.</p><p>When Sirius came to say he was off, Neville and I were in the middle of an energetic bowling match in which the more chipped pins were screaming in terror, jumping all over the room to avoid being knocked over, and the ball had a weird finger licking fetish. Don’t ask me.</p><p>I was yelling as hard as Neville, and neither of us noticed him standing in the doorway for quite a while. When we did he had an odd look on his face. I recognised it for more of that ‘awe of a new parent’, and swore under my breath. Damn it.</p><p>I might have ruined the mood there and then and reminded him of my very adult status, embarrassed at being seen as a kid, had Neville not stuttered, “You are Sirius Black!” </p><p>He turned to me and shouted, “You’re Sirius Black’s son!”</p><p>By the time Neville sorted himself out, Black’s face sported a rare smile and I was happy to not see a trace of the morning’s fuss, so I kept my complaints to myself when he decided to act the dad.</p><p>“Don’t play inside the whole time,” he instructed me. “Get some fresh air and sun.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Mind your manners and tidy up after you’re done.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“If you want to come home earlier, you tell Augusta and she will call me to fetch you.”</p><p>“Okay.”</p><p>“Do you hear me, James? You are not to walk back alone.”</p><p>“Okayy. I get it.”</p><p>“Mind your tone,” he said but looked amused.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>He ruffled my hair and told me to have fun. Then did the same with Neville.</p><p>“We will!” Neville yelled, suddenly hyper.</p><hr/><p>Longbottom took his words to heart. As soon as Sirius left he insisted we take tennis racquets and a net out to the lawn behind the house, making a temporary court.</p><p>My fears that it would be boring exercise only was dispelled the moment I hit the serve and my racquet turned into a wet fish. When Neville returned it, his racquet stayed unchanged but the tennis ball morphed into an enormous blue beach ball. I had to run to the net to flop my fish at it and it reached Neville as an orange. His racquet changed into a golf stick. From there on it was anyone’s guess what they would turn into and mad fun.</p><p>I spent much longer at the Longbottoms than I had intended. Augusta gave us tea on the lawn and quizzed Neville on our activities while we stuffed our faces with crumpets. Neville was a red tomato by then from all the exertion and sun, but more than half of that was a happy glow. I joined him in that if you wanted to know. It’s been a while since I had the opportunity to relax and be silly.</p><p>I took back some of the dark thoughts I had been harbouring against Augusta, as she seemed honestly glad to see her grandson having fun. Her questions on surface-level sounded like the Spanish Inquisition but once you paid attention you realised she was doing a clandestine investigation to see if I was being a proper friend. Satisfied that I was a good guest, she left us to it.</p><p>Which was my cue to bring Neville over to the dark side.</p><hr/><p>I made sure I was well down the lane before I held Frank Longbottom’s wand up, mindful of Neville’s reminder that the bus was noisy. So much of magic seemed to be, by the way. For a moment nothing happened. Then the air in front of me pinched to a point and expanded, and the purple, double-decker bus appeared with a rattle and a clang that would wake the dead.</p><p>The doors sprang open and I clambered on, praying Augusta hadn’t heard; the hair on the back of my neck had been crawling the whole way, and I expected her to retrieve me at any moment. My childish height made it more difficult than necessary to get up on the high step but nervous fear gave me wings and I scrambled on, not daring to look back.</p><p>“Welcome to The Knight Bus, my name is Mary-Jane...” a spotty teenage girl reading a romance novel droned absently.</p><p>She dragged her eyes from the page to look, saw no-one, then looked lower.</p><p>“Aren’t you a little young to be out on your own?” she asked me, peering over her book.</p><p>I loved the fact that pictures moved in this world. On the cover a half-naked hero and heroine were writhing and kissing ardently; there seemed to be too many arms clutching at body parts for the number of people, and steam was escaping from the paper, making it look decidedly soggy.</p><p>“Don’t look at them,” the teenager said and bopped me on the head with it. “Answer my question.”</p><p>“I’m allowed,” I said stupidly.</p><p>Would the start of my journey also be the end?</p><p>“Oh, well, if you are ‘alloowed’ then you would have money, right? That will be eight sickles. There’s Irish coffee extra today but that you won’t be ‘alloowed’ so I shan’t tell you the cost. Where are you off to?”</p><p>I dug out a galleon and handed it over.</p><p>“4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey.”</p><p>“Again? Huh.” She returned a handful of sickles to me and told me, “Go find your seat, hold on tight, and don’t go crying for your mummy if you didn’t.”</p><hr/><p>I was the only other passenger, I saw with some relief. There were no beds either, the bus was filled with chairs of every size and shape. The Knight Bus started rocking as soon as I stepped inside proper, so I took her advice and ran for the plush sofa nearest to me, making it just in time. A loud ‘bang’ started us on our way and I was thrown back into the chair—we were off!</p><p>I was disappointed not to have Stanley Shunpike as a conductor, the kid probably still school age, but the rest lived up to its name. The scenery whizzed past the window in a streak of green and greys. The bus rocked and made hair-raising turns on a dime, and the chairs played bumper cars with each other inside.</p><p>When it stopped in front of 4 Privet drive, a passerby ducked at the noise, and Mary-Jane made me get out in a rush so they could be off before the woman opened her eyes.</p><p>“Don’t be a dunce when you call us back,” she said, booting me out. “We don’t need a crowd of Muggles to see. I don’t like Obliviating people, and I’ll tell your mum!”</p><p>The Knight Bus rattled off, disappearing into the ether and I stood out like a sore thumb in its wake. The Muggle straightened up. She looked around her in a dazed way that seemed extreme, and I wondered if the bus carried its own type of confounding charms.</p><p>“You should know better than to make such noise,” the woman scolded me when she spied me. “This is a good neighbourhood.”</p><p>“Sorry,” I said. “I won’t again.”</p><p>Thankfully this worked for her and she walked off, leaving me to do my thing. Which currently was to stand on the hot pavement, and feel unsure.</p><p>4 Privet Drive, Little Whinging, Surrey. A tidy little house in a street with tidy little houses.</p><p>Now what?</p><hr/><p>“Here you are,” a hand clamped onto my collar.</p><p>My stomach somersaulted and tried to meld with my spine before I realised it was only Remus. Oh, thank God.</p><p>“Gerroff!” I snapped and tried to shake him loose.</p><p>“I don’t think so.”</p><p>He tightened his hold and shook his wand out of his sleeve. Despite my predicament, I watched in awe as a misty form started on the tip and the Patronus took shape. The corporeal wolf he made gave me a disgruntled look before it ran off.</p><p>Hand still firmly attached to my collar, Remus next marched me into his ramshackle cottage. Which was stupid, I was going there anyway, I would have done it on my own steam.</p><p>“Where did you go?” he asked. “You had us worried.”</p><p>“Out.”</p><p>That was all I was going to admit to. Harry was safely stowed, and I had no more worries.</p><p>I was actually very proud of myself. In less than a week I had done the near impossible.</p><p>I had exposed Pettigrew, saved Black, and given Harry a better life. Sure, he might have to hide out for a while in Neville’s toy room until I could find a way to introduce him here, but that was already better than his closet. I was well ahead of schedule, why think, another week and I might have sorted Voldemort!</p><p>“I went for a walk.”</p><p>“Is that so?”</p><p>He didn't believe a word of it. Tough. He couldn’t prove anything.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Neville had been very proud to inform me that he had said nothing more and nothing less than what I instructed when Sirius came asking, which was that last he had seen me I had said I would go home. He didn’t know what he should be more excited about, having Harry Potter in his care, his father’s wand back safely, or my promise that I would help him prove to his grandmother that he wasn’t a squib in return for all his help.</p><p>Remus marched me to the kitchen. Once there he made me stand on a chair and rotated me this way and that, checking for injuries, for once unheeding of my protest.</p><p>“You had your father frantic,” he said when he was finally assured that I was in one piece and let me jump down.</p><p>“Why?” I asked like the little moron I was.</p><p>An intake of breath behind us and we turned to see Sirius. I wished I hadn’t. Remus saying he was frantic was the understatement of the century. Like saying Voldemort was a naughty boy. Or the Grim was a lapdog.</p><p><em>“Why?”</em> Sirius asked.</p><p>Remus tucked me in behind him. </p><p>“Take a deep breath, Siri. He’s fine.”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Where is he?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>“Move, Remus.”</em>
</p><p>He didn’t.</p><p>“Why don’t you go take a walk and calm down? When you come back he'll be right here, I promise.”</p><p>His hand came back to give me a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>“Remember Jamie’s age,” Remus said and went on about how kids my age acted without thinking, or so he learned since he’d been tutoring a few over the years, but that we ‘didn’t mean any harm’.</p><p>“But you aren’t five, James, are you?” Sirius asked, his tone daring me to defy him.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then act your age and come out of there.”</p><p>What else could I do? I evaded Remus’s hand and slowly stepped into view.</p><p>We both ignored Remus when he asked, “What do you mean, he’s not five?”</p><p>I watched Sirius warily. The wolf’s talk had helped somewhat, I thought; Sirius looked calmer, but it could be the eye of the typhoon for all I knew.</p><p>He, in turn, gave me a long, assessing look, then said, “Pull out a chair and sit.”</p><p>I did so, positioning the chair so that I could see him.</p><p>“You will stay on that chair until I return, are we clear?” Sirius said.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Again, what could I do? Tell him no? Now was certainly not the time to excite him.</p><p>“Don’t let him out of your sight,” he told Remus, and then he was gone, apparating away without a sound.</p><hr/><p>“How old are you?” Remus asked me.</p><p>His long, unhappy face made him appear as if he was carrying all the troubles in the world. I had my own share of that right now, though, so I ignored him.</p><p>He sighed and started messing about with the fridge, pulling bread and cheese out, and soon I had a sandwich and a glass of milk next to me.</p><p>“Eat. It’s going to be fine, I promise. Your dad was frantic because he worried for your safety, it’s something that happens when parents care about their kids… in case that was still a question in your mind.” He stopped, for a moment unsure, but then forged on. “Whatever your age, Jamie, you’re too small to wander around on your own. Not everyone in the world is kind.”</p><p>“I know that.”</p><p>“Do you? Eat.”</p><p>“He’s only known me a day.”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. You can love someone from the moment you see them. Eat.”</p><p>He pushed my plate closer and turned my chair to face the table. I was fast learning that when you were small people tended to organise you and I’ve not yet formed an opinion on that. I picked up the bread.</p><p>Eat. As if it was so easy. I nibbled on the sandwich to make him stop saying ‘eat’ like a broken record, but I would rather Sirius came back and finished this.</p><p>Remus took a newspaper and sat at the other end of the kitchen table with a pot of tea. He glanced up whenever I moved, but didn’t speak further.</p><p>Sirius was taking forever. The kitchen had no clock, but forever couldn’t be measured anyway so it didn’t matter.</p><p>When Remus Accio’d a second paper, I asked, “Can I have one too?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Why not?”</p><p>“I’d rather you sit there and think about your actions. Your dad will surely ask.”</p><p>“I’ve thought about it, I’m done.” </p><p>I did. I am. With the world. Well okay, not really. I felt guilty for making them worry but did not regret doing it. Also, the wait was making me queasy and I would like a distraction.</p><p>“Then you can take some time and think how it will look if he comes back and finds you relaxing with a paper without a care in the world.”</p><p>Ah. Yes, that will not be a good follow-up to my ‘why’. </p><p>I returned to shredding my sandwich and neither of us spoke again.</p><hr/><p>“I’m sorry,” was the first thing I said when Sirius finally returned. </p><p>By all appearances, he was calmer, which was a relief, but I had seen how easily he blew up and was taking no chances still. And also I was really sorry.</p><p>“For which part of today are you sorry?” He turned my chair away from the table, pulled his own up to face mine, and sat. “That you got caught?”</p><p>Remus filled a mug with tea, placed it without a word next to Sirius, and left us to it. But he didn’t go far, he settled in the sitting room and if I looked past Sirius I could see him pretending to read yet another newspaper. Support? For whom?</p><p>“That I made you worry and that I asked why. I know why.”</p><p>I felt stupid and sulky but tried not to show it.</p><p>“All right. I’ll accept that. Where were you?” he asked.</p><p>Oh, this was not good. He seemed to have gone right to the other side where the people with no emotions lived. His face was a blank mask that told me nothing of what he was thinking, and I would never ask for the shouting Sirius back but this was worse.</p><p>“I went for a walk.”</p><p>“No, you didn’t.”</p><p>“I—what do you mean, no I didn’t?” This was too uncomfortable. I felt like a kid being put on the spot and struggled to get the power back. “Sirius, why are we doing this? We’ve established that I'm not a child, yes? So I’m sorry I worried you and leave it at that. I should be allowed to come and go as I please.”</p><p>“All we’ve established was that you think you’re not a child. An adult would know when their safety and those of others are at risk, which you seem not to do.”</p><p>“I was fine, nothing happened.”</p><p>“Exactly what a child would say. Prove to me you’re an adult here and now, and we will stop this conversation and go about our day,” Sirius said. </p><p>Remus, I saw, was finding it hard to hide the fact that he was listening in.</p><p>How would I prove that? I can’t change the body, what sets an adult apart from a child except for life experience and reasoning…</p><p>Ah, I fucked up, didn’t I? No matter what I’ll say, my actions spoke for themselves.</p><p>I wasn’t just a short adult; a short adult would have thought up a better plan. I had acted just like the mindless kid Remus had said I was, there were countless other ways I could have done this without letting them worry at the very least.</p><p>Sirius watched me come to that realisation. Still, I might yet have gotten away with it and got a talking to about obeying him or some such rot, but Fate’s smile was brittle and she sent an owl. The beautiful bird flew in through the wide-open living room windows with yet another newspaper in her claws and hooted for attention.</p><p>“I’ll get that,” Remus said and crossed over to fetch the cookie jar.</p><p>My interrogation was paused. </p><p>I pulled my legs up, hugged my knees, and watched with a sinking stomach as Remus found the IOU.</p><p>Eyebrows raised sky high, he spared me a disappointed look and handed it to Sirius without a word.</p><p>Who read it and lowered it to scrutinise me thoughtfully while Remus settled himself against the counter to be closer to the entertainment.</p><hr/><p>The trip had cost less than I had budgeted for and I figured I could at least give those back. It took forever to dig the change out of my pockets, and by the time I placed the last coin on the kitchen table beside us, my face was boiling and I couldn’t look either of them in the eye. One galleon and ten sickles. I pushed it closer to Sirius.</p><p>“I’m sorry I took the money, I’ll pay you back.”</p><p>“It was not my money,” Sirius said. He moved the coins this way and that with his bony finger, counting it, the gears working. “We will sort it with Remus when we’re done here. Where is Harry?” </p><p>“Harry, who?” I asked.</p><p>“I’ll give you that one for free,” Sirius said with a painful grimace, “because I was a little boy myself not so long ago, and I remember well the initial response when you’re in trouble is not always something you can control. Let’s try again. You used twenty-four sickles, a round trip on the Knight Bus is sixteen, so you should either have eight sickles left besides this lot, or someone to show. And that someone will be Harry.”</p><p>“Why must it be Harry?” </p><p>I was honestly curious to find out how he got there so fast.</p><p>“Because if I’ve learned anything it is that you have a one-track mind. Last night and this morning you wanted Harry. Then you disappeared in the middle of a lane, and I smelled the Knight Bus. My first thought had been Potter, but when I went there he had been home with his aunt, so you must have gone after. Do you want to tell me now that I was wrong?”</p><p>I scowled at the floor and didn’t answer.</p><p>“Where is Harry?” he repeated with more patience than I would have had but never fear, it didn’t last long. “We need to take him back, James, his aunt will be worried.”</p><p>“She won’t.”</p><p>“Yes, she will. Just like I would worry if some boy came and took you.”</p><p>“She won’t, Sirius. She locked him under the stairs for days without food, he peed in a bucket and <em>worse</em> and he <em>smelled</em>. You didn’t see him, you saw his cousin! You can’t take him back.”</p><p>“You are telling me I saw his cousin,” he said in disbelief.</p><p>“Big fat tub of lard? Yes.”</p><p>That was as near as I could figure it out. Why would she show him Harry in the cupboard unless she wanted to commit suicide by wizard?</p><p>“And his aunt locked him under the stairs for days,” he repeated.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Without food?”</p><p>“Yes!” Now that I had been there it seemed I was free to talk about what I saw at least. “Why is it so bloody difficult to understand?”</p><p>He lost his patience and pulled me from the chair to stand in front of him, holding me in place by my shoulders, and asked, “Where’s Harry now?”</p><p>“I’m not going to say until you promise not to take him back.”</p><p>“Answer the question, James. <em>I don’t want to smack your bottom.”</em></p><p>“Siri,” Remus protested.</p><p>“Then don’t?” I said, immediately incensed.</p><p>The most embarrassing instinct had me cover my backside with both hands. Oh, god it was the '80s, wasn’t it? I’ve never been smacked and I certainly didn’t want that to change. </p><p>“Hitting children is abuse, you shouldn’t do it anyway; it doesn’t teach them anything except to be scared of you. Did your parents hit you?”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“There you go. I bet you hated them for it. Think, Sirius. If THEY did it, it can’t be right, and just this morning you said you weren’t going to make their mistakes.”</p><p>“I am sure there were times when it was needed…” Sirius started to say.</p><p>I had to give him credit for stopping. His hand moved from my arm and I startled but it was just to pinch his nose. He saw my flinch, though. His face darkened with self-hate and he released me as if I burned.</p><p>“Sit,” he said. Then softened his voice. “Please. Sit, Jamie.”</p><p>I scrambled back to the safety of the chair, not giving him my back.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Sirius said once I was seated and moved his own chair further back to give me breathing space. “I will not be hitting you—ever. I apologise for saying it.”</p><p>“It was a horrible thing to say.”</p><p>“Yes, it was.”</p><p>“I’m really angry at you.”</p><p>That might have been taking it too far. He closed his eyes searching for more patience, I’m sure, and when he opened them, they bore into me.</p><p>“Look, James. I am angry at you for a few things also but I am not going to go on about it forever. Right now I want to know where Harry is; I want to be sure he is safe. Either you tell me, or I change into Padfoot and go sniff him out which might scare him. Which will it be?”</p><p>I could see no other option. If he managed to sniff out the fact that I got on the bus then this would be easy.</p><p>“Neville is dunking him in their pond.”</p><p>“He’s doing what?” Remus asked.</p><p>“Dunking him, I said he smelled, didn’t I?” </p><p>So much. The hour I spent talking to him in his cupboard was the smelliest hour in my life.</p><p>“He’ll give him some clothes also, Harry’s cousin is even bigger than Neville, so it will be an upgrade. I came to get some leftovers because Neville is not allowed to sneak food. His grandmother counts even the crumbs in the coldbox—they don’t have a fridge. On account of his weight.” I took stock of what I had just said. “The fridge has nothing to do with Neville’s weight.”</p><p>The two wizards stared at me with identical expressions vacillating between horrified and bemused. I had thought about this and now used the moment to enact the next step of my plan. I called this part damage control. I slithered off the chair and hugged Sirius.</p><p>“Don’t go to Azkaban!” </p><p>Using my newfound childish cuteness, I opened my eyes wide and clutched his arm to my chest. He was still sitting and that was the only part available to me. What? Being an adult seemed not to work right now, okay? </p><p>“Remus! Petrify him!”</p><p>“What?” Sirius said.</p><p>Remus got it but didn’t want to play along. </p><p>“I’m not going to petrify anyone,” he told me.</p><p>“Because you want him to go back to jail?” I snapped.</p><p>“I’m so regretting my decision not to smack you,” Sirius said.</p><p>I nearly let go of him just for that. If he did, Azkaban could have him. </p><p>“What are you on about?” he asked.</p><p>Remus answered for me. “He thinks you are going to rush off mindlessly, find Harry in the condition he said he was, and go kill the Dursleys.” He pulled a chair out and sat down heavily. “I hope he’s wrong.”</p><p>Sirius stiffened under my grip, then he relaxed.</p><p>“He is very much wrong. We’re all going together.”</p><p>“We are?” I asked, surprised at being included.</p><p>“We are?” Remus asked, just as surprised to be included.</p><p>“Yes,” Sirius said. “I don’t trust you out of my sight,” he told me, and turned to Remus. “And I need you to be the sensible one.”</p><hr/><p>Remus made another sandwich at my request and we apparated to the Longbottoms, Sirius carrying me.</p><p>“I can walk,” I protested feebly when we appeared in their garden.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>And that was that.</p><p>“You two go find that pond, and I’ll see Augusta,” Remus said, taking his job as the sensible one to heart.</p><p>I had a close view of Sirius’s face and didn’t miss the curl of his lip but he turned to the side of the house without protest.</p><p>“It’s behind the barns,” I told Sirius.</p><p>Perhaps it was not so bad being carried, this little body had quite the exercise today. Add to that the stressful kitchen scene and I could do with a break.</p><p>He made short work of the distance and then we found the two boys. Neville had done more than dunk Harry; the little pond was full of soapy bubbles—I dearly hoped there weren't any fish—and the two were waist-deep in it, giggling and splashing each other.</p><p>“The boy I saw was larger,” Sirius muttered as we neared.</p><p>“I’m sure you saw Dudley. Petunia was probably thinking very fast when you came, did she know who you were?”</p><p>“Yes, she remembered me. It took some convincing that I hadn’t come to murder them.”</p><p>“She probably thought you would if you saw Harry.”</p><p>“I might have.”</p><p>Then I was damn glad Petunia did her miserable switch. I didn’t save him from Azkaban to just send him back again.</p><p>Neither boy saw us where we stood between their discarded clothes and towels. Next to Neville, Harry looked small and anorexic, bony ribs showing much as it did with the wizard still holding me.</p><p>“She didn’t give him much food; Vernon said he cost money,” I told Sirius now.</p><p>I had spent an hour in the dark little cupboard with Harry, holding his grubby little hand while I explained to him that kids were not supposed to be treated this way, that he was like Cinderella and had a magical godfather that was a bit stubborn but who would save him if he met him. I told him of the many magical things that he could have and do, feeling quite like an advertiser doing a hard sell for his product. You’re a wizard, Harry!</p><p>In turn, Harry whispered to me about his life and its many injustices. This wasn’t the Petunia that locked him in a cupboard for a week, hitting out at him with cookware, but this was the Petunia that started on that road. He had never been locked up before and had spent a few days in the cupboard by then, despairing of ever getting out, and it didn’t take a lot of convincing to come with me.</p><p>“You are not to go kill anyone,” I reminded Sirius. “And you’re not to take him back or I will just fetch him again.”</p><p>“Thank you for the warning.”</p><p>Aw, fuck.</p><p>Harry spied us then.</p><p>“Jamie! You came!” he yodelled and started splashing towards us.</p><p>“Jamie! Mr Black! S-sirius!” Neville shouted in turn and did the same before he realised why he shouldn’t be too happy and stopped halfway.</p><p>Not so Harry, he scrambled out of the pond like a naked little water nymph, bubbles sparkling on his messy hair, and came to hang excited on my foot.</p><p>“You were right about the magic! Neville has a soap frog that makes bubbles from nothing! Forever! You don’t need to add soap like the one Dudders has and his broke already!”</p><p>“N-not forever,” Neville protested weakly. “Just a lot.”</p><p>“The bus didn’t convince you?” I asked the kid, handing him his sandwich.</p><p>“I’ve never been on a bus,” he said and shrugged as if that made sense.</p><p>He was more interested in me than the sandwich. He held it in his wet little hand and stared at me in astonishment.</p><p>“You brought food.”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry I was late.”</p><p>“You weren’t late,” he protested. “You said you would and you brought it.”</p><p>“Of course I did. Eat it now.”</p><p>Harry promptly took a bite and only then did he move his eyes from me to Sirius.</p><p>“You’re Jamie’s dad, right? You look like him. Did you come to take me back?”</p><p>“Do you want to go back?” Sirius asked.</p><p>“I’ve got school starting in a week,” he took a larger bite, talking around it. “And Aunt Petunia will be worried.”</p><p>“No she won’t,” I protested.</p><p>“James,” Sirius said.</p><p>“I’m not a psychopath, Sirius, I know people get worried but she won’t, trust me. Can you let me down now?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>But in the end, he had to. Remus and Augusta joined us and Harry and Neville were wet, needing to be dried off and have their clothes sorted as it was all in one bundle.</p><p>“No shoes?” Sirius asked when he had Harry dressed in Neville’s clothes and looked around the grassy bank for it.</p><p>He charmed the clothes to fit as he had with his robe in the hospital, leaving the kid staring at it in awe.</p><p>“I lost it like Cinderella,” Harry said.</p><p>He proceeded to tell them with great fanfare how we ran like the hot blazes out of number 4 Privet Drive. (We hadn’t been seen but I was taking no chances.) Dudley’s castoff sneakers, being too big, had lost the struggle halfway down the block and we left them where they fell. </p><p>“The prince is going to marry Dudders!” he giggled gleefully.</p><p>Sirius, Remus, and Augusta looked at me for translation.</p><p>“It’s just a story.”</p><p>“Let’s get you boys inside,” Augusta said. She reached out and raised Harry’s bangs then dropped it. “You have some explaining to do.”</p><hr/><p>Soon we were all sitting around Augusta’s large kitchen table, adults to the one side, kids to the other, Harry between me and Neville. Augusta made more sandwiches, hers had ham, cheese, tomatoes, and lettuce—I made sure Remus took note—and set lemonade out for them and milk for us. I eyed the lemonade sadly. Milk was not my most favourite beverage but I doubted now was the time to protest.</p><p>No one expected Neville to explain, though his Grandmother did send him a few unhappy looks. No one expected Harry to explain, though they did have a few questions. Which he lied about.</p><p>“It’s fine, I like sleeping in the little cupboard.”</p><p>“Tell the truth,” I hissed and bumped him with my elbow.</p><p>“It’s cozy,” he insisted. “Anyway, it’s where you sleep when you’re not family.”</p><p>I elbowed him when ‘<em>they don’t feed me</em>’, became ‘<em>I don’t eat much</em>’ and again when ‘<em>they gave me castoffs that didn’t fit and made all my classmates laugh at me</em>’, became ‘<em>I like large clothes</em>’.</p><p>“James,” Sirius said. “If you bump Harry one more time I will send you out.”</p><p>“He’s trying to make everything sound nice!”</p><p>“It’s not working,” Remus assured me. “Just let Harry talk.”</p><p>I sulked. Harry patted my leg under the table and whispered, “Sorry,” to me.</p><p>“I’d like to know how you knew Harry was in trouble, Jamie,” Augusta said.</p><p><em>I read the books.</em> Oh, welcome back goldfish imitation. <em>His parents’ ghosts told me.</em> Argh! I crushed the last bit of my sandwich in my frustration and shoved the plate aside.</p><p>“Jamie has lost some of his memories with his attack,” Sirius said, taking my plate away. “We don’t know everything.”</p><p>Augusta turned her attention to Black. </p><p>“And why did he need to fetch the child himself? Did you not believe him?”</p><p>“I went there to see if he was fine and was shown a sleeping child in a room full of toys, Augusta. Petunia was pleasant once she learned I hadn’t escaped from Azkaban and I saw no reason to disturb them more.”</p><p>“That’s Dudders,” Harry said. “He has another bedroom with toys also.”</p><p>This was too much talking and needed to get to the point.</p><p>“Are you going to take him back?” I asked.</p><p>I’d fetch him again. One nice thing about the ‘80s was doors weren’t locked and windows didn’t have bars yet; I had just walked in without knocking, straight to his cupboard under the stairs and unlocked it.</p><p>“We need to discuss it,” Augusta said. “Neville, why don’t you take your little friends to your playroom? We will call you back when we’re done.”</p><p>“Yes, Grandmother,” he said and scraped his chair back, slithering off. “Come guys.”</p><p>Harry and I sat.</p><p>“No, thank you, I’d like to stay,” Harry said and his hand searched for mine under the table.</p><p>I was more direct. “I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>Neville climbed back on his chair, blushing beet red to the roots of his hair, and said, “Sorry, Ninny, I think I’ll stay also.”</p><p>Remus had a coughing fit. Then decided why hide it and laughed freely.</p><p>“Oh, oh, Siri! I’m sorry but I think you’ve made your match!”</p><hr/><p>“Do you?” Sirius said unperturbed. He slipped his wand out. “Remind me how the ‘Little Ears’ spell goes again, Augusta?”</p><p>“Let me.” </p><p>Her wand was a slim little white stick with no adornments, and she swirled it in our direction, Sirius paying attention.</p><p>Neville groaned when our ears popped.</p><p>“What’s that?” Harry asked.</p><p>“They can hear us but we can’t hear them,” he explained and he seemed to have the gist of it.</p><p>Remus looked as if he would never stop laughing—tears were rolling, but only a slight buzzing came from his mouth. Sirius gave me a grin that was all teeth and bite.</p><p>“How long does it work for?” I asked Neville.</p><p>“Until they do a Finite.”</p><p>“Fine,” I stood up and Harry, still attached to my hand, came along. “Let’s go up where they can’t hear us.”</p><hr/><p>“I’m in soo much trouble,” Neville exclaimed once we reached his toy room, and flung himself down onto a large pink pillow.</p><p>“Sorry,” I offered.</p><p>Harry was still holding on to my hand and stopped to look around him in amazement. I pulled him to another set of pillows, where I flopped down, too tired to stand about and gawp.</p><p>Longbottom grinned. “It’s okay, I haven’t had this much fun in years.”</p><p>Which was sad.</p><p>“Will you be locked up?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Kids don’t get locked up, Harry,” I roused myself to say. “Your aunt was wrong to do it.” And just in case he didn’t get the memo, I said, “And they shouldn’t get hit either.”</p><p>Neville informed us he got smacked every now and then, mostly to do with food. This interested Harry greatly and they discussed it in depth while I dozed next to them only half-listening. They were sharing and comparing punishments and when they asked me what Sirius would do. </p><p>“I don’t know. Nothing, I think, it’s his fault, isn’t it?”</p><p>Well mostly anyway. Also, he wasn’t my dad, was he?</p><p>It was interesting how the two didn’t spend one moment to wonder what dastardly plans they were coming up with in the kitchen. They seemed to just accept that the adults would take care of it, even Harry. I would rather have been down giving my input.</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A headache</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one wanted my input.</p><p>Especially not once they realised that I had sneaked off with Harry so expertly that not only had we not been seen but that Petunia on discovering him missing thought back on her visitor last night—Sirius Black, murderer, who she only had his word on of his innocence—and decided he was to blame. And called the muggle authorities. Who all had to be obliviated.</p><p>Or so I heard from Kingsley who had been happy when Sirius, Remus, and Augusta decided to call the authorities on the Dursleys and had come to arrest him.</p><p>They had moved from the kitchen to Augusta’s sitting room which looked straight out of the Victorian era, all plush velvet and tassels, some of it possibly just as threadbare as Remus’s couch but where his was simply old and cheap, theirs had a lived in feel to it.</p><p>Sirius stood arms crossed against the window; backlit by the sun his face was obscured but I daren’t look in his direction anyway. Augusta perched on what must be her favourite chair beside the hearth; the large basket of wool next to it looked ready for her hand. Remus sat near the door, the wolf back to his worried self. Kingsley had taken possession of the largest chair, and I stood on the carpet before him—Neville had been banished to his bedroom, and Harry was being questioned by Amelia Bones in the toy room. That was everyone accounted for.</p><p>I couldn’t understand it. “But why would she even tell anyone? I know for a fact she’d be happy to get rid of him.”</p><p>“Would she?” Kingsley asked.</p><p>“Why wouldn’t she, the way she treated him?”</p><p>“So far we have only your side of it—” Kingsley started.</p><p>“I’m not lying.”</p><p>“—and we’ll investigate it, lad, what I meant was I wouldn’t presume to know why she did it, not having heard her side. For now, I’d like you to answer my question.”</p><p>“Fine! No, Sirius didn’t put me up to this. Why would he do that? I stole the money from Remus and fetched him myself.” I kicked the carpet in a temper. All my hard work, come to this. “When are you going to investigate? You could have done that already—you should do your job and go arrest them, not us!”</p><p>“<em>James</em>,” Sirius said, and why did it just take my name to make me feel guilty? Was it a parent thing? My mum had the same skill. “Less attitude.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Apologise to Kingsley, not me.”</p><p>Oh my god. I scowled at Sirius and mumbled another sorry to the auror wishing the earth would swallow me up.</p><p>“It’s fine, lad,” Kingsley said. “I understand you are upset. We have someone with the Dursleys also, all right? Now tell me, how did you know Harry was in trouble?”</p><p>“I can’t say.”</p><p>“Can’t or won’t?”</p><p>“Can’t.”</p><p>“Because your dad won’t let you?”</p><p>“No, because I can’t! It’s got nothing to do with Sirius. THEY won’t let me!” I threw my arms in the air. “And he’s not my dad! I told you in the hospital—I came from ano—aah!” </p><p>Blinding pain ripped through my head and brought me to my knees with a cry. Sirius was next to me in an instant and I reached for him, clutching at his clothes. It was excruciating. Someone talked, but their words were only static noise, heaping fire onto the live wire that was in my head. I might have screamed—surely only dying could hurt this much?—before mercifully it all went dark.</p><p>I woke up in an unfamiliar bed with healer Smith and Sirius by my side. Nausea attacked me in waves; directly across from me hung a moving picture of a tiny little rowboat struggling in a black, stormy sea.</p><p>“Gonna be sick!”</p><p>A bowl materialised just in time.</p><hr/><p>Sirius fussed and helped me sip water and Smith gave me a mint drop to suck for the taste.</p><p>“How are you feeling, Jamie?” Smith asked.</p><p>“Fine.”</p><p>I didn’t care about any of that; I had got further than ever before. Someone up there had dropped the ball—the wizards would finally realise I was being blocked in spilling the beans and figure out who and why!</p><p>Yes, about that. Turned out they knew it already and had thought it best not to tell the five-year-old. A geas, the healers called it, exactly like the Potters, and Smith had been brought over from the unit specialising in dark curses for exactly that reason. Kingsley had been aware of it from the start. Even Sirius knew.</p><p>Only they got it all wrong and thought that whoever had attacked this world’s Jamie and Janet Taylor was to blame, and when I tried to tell them differently the pain flashed a second time without warning. I blacked out.</p><p>The powers that be had stepped up their game. Gone was the goldfish impression, and in its place I was struck by lightning whenever I tried to say anything I had learned from the books, and now even about my life before. I was laid down a third time before a pale-faced Sirius snapped at me to stop trying. Then Smith made me drink the worst potion yet, and the throbbing headache disappeared as if it had never been.</p><hr/><p>As a general rule you didn’t stay sick in the wizarding world, look how I had recovered in a few days from having near every bone in my body broken and being close to organ failure. Potions and spells worked a charm for most anything except irreversible spell damage like Neville’s parents had. This meant that Smith pronounced me fine after casting diagnostic spells that left my skin feeling itchy and too hot.</p><p>“We don’t see it affecting anything else, Jamie,” he told me. “Try not to think too much on it for now and leave it to time and us to sort.”</p><p>Easy for him to say. At least I could still think of things without being affected, but this escalation worried me. What if they decided they had enough of me here, where I didn’t belong, and took it to the next logical step? I could see the same sharp worry in Sirius’s eyes though he did his best to hide it.</p><p>“Are you going to jail?” I asked as soon as Smith closed the door behind him.</p><p>“No,” Sirius said, looking harried. “Remus is alibi enough. I’d like your promise, though, that you will not rush off anywhere again. Do you have anything else to do?”</p><p>It was not a promise I was prepared to make, and of course, that was not a question I could answer and I had my fourth experience of the powers’ wrath. Sirius kicked himself for it. While I still had the potion bubbling away in me, and the pain was lessened to a degree, I had already been given my limit of the pain-relievers and this time I had to recover without help. If I cried, it wasn’t anyone’s business.</p><hr/><p>I wanted to go home and said so. Sirius thought I meant Remus’s cottage, and I didn’t even know what I meant but I had no energy left to examine my feelings. Also, if anyone had a spare body lying around I would take it in a heartbeat, this one was done for and needed to be carried downstairs.</p><p>Augusta invited us for dinner, but both wizards declined.</p><p>“We need to get the kids home,” Remus said, casting a worried look over at me and Sirius.</p><p>Kids. I doubt he meant to call Sirius one. I had imagined they had returned Harry to Petunia’s loving arms.</p><p>“Harry is still here?” I asked.</p><p>“We can’t let all your effort go to waste now, can we?” Remus answered. “He’s waiting outside.”</p><p>He was indeed outside, accompanied by Neville. Both were crouched at the Jingle Bell flowers, Neville earnestly telling him how a squib named Pierpoint ripped it off for a Muggle song.</p><p>“What’s a squib?” Harry asked.</p><p>Neville, I was glad to see, took my words to heart and pinched his lips tightly. He looked over at me and I nodded, I had not forgotten my promise. If he stopped saying he was a squib, I would help him find his magic. How, I didn’t know yet, short of dropping him out of a window.</p><p>“Someone who has too little magic to use,” Remus told him when Neville stayed mum. “Let’s go, Harry. Say goodbye to Neville, you’ll see him tomorrow.”</p><p>“I will?”</p><p>And wasn’t the kid too cute with the excitement in his little green eyes magnified by the lenses of his itty bitty glasses and his tiny hands clasped in happiness? I was going to have competition there. Nevermind, he deserved some love.</p><p>Remus answered, and I swore he looked a fraction more pained than his usual self, but you had to know the wizard to see the difference.</p><p>“Augusta agreed you three can be tutored together.”</p><p>My, what a lot of plans the three of them had made without us.</p><p>“I’ll not be taught.”</p><p>The wolf spared me a disappointed look but Sirius said nothing, and, still carrying me, started down the lane. Harry fell in beside us and took hold of my foot. When I looked down at him he gave me a toothy smile and I let the kid do what he wanted; with his history, I was probably the safest to be around.</p><hr/><p>“I’ve never been in the country,” Harry said, swivelling his head this way and that, trying to see everything at once. “Aunt Petunia makes me stay with the neighbour when they go on holiday. Is that a sheep?”</p><p>It was, and we stopped so he could admire it, and soon we saw a cow and had to stop again so he could stare at it even though it was too far to see it well. When we came to the bridge, he let go of my foot and ran ahead to hang over the railings, looking in wonder at the fast-flowing water. Remus followed and held him by the back of Neville’s shirt so that he wouldn't fall in, and we all saw Harry flinch before he forced himself to relax and started chatting about fish, wanting to know why he couldn’t see any.</p><p>“Because they are too deep, I imagine,” Harry’s new tutor answered. “And the sun reflects on the water surface... Oh, what the hell.”</p><p>Remus cast a furtive glance around us and slipped his wand out. He directed what must have been an Accio-fish at the river, for a multitude of fish of all colours and sizes were suddenly displaced, flying over the water, zooming directly at us. Harry yelled, and I was no less excited, nearly twisting out of Sirius’s grip when the fish flew over our heads in a shiny arc, splashing us with cold droplets, to dive back into the river on the other side of the bridge. Harry ran after them gleefully and this time when Remus rushed to catch his shirt at the opposite railings, he did not notice at all, laughing like he had seen the best thing ever.</p><p>“That was amazing!” he shouted, and climbed down to dance around Remus.</p><p>Even Sirius broke a smile at his former friend’s antics.</p><p>When we walked on, Harry attached himself to my foot again, looking thoughtful.</p><p>Remus said, “I’d like to know what’s going on here,” nodding his head in my direction.</p><p>“Would you?” Sirius asked and hitched me into a more comfortable hold.</p><p>It seemed the truce was over and the little interlude had never happened.</p><p>This time Remus didn’t back off. “Yes, I would.”</p><p>“It’s up to James if he wants to tell you.”</p><p>Ugh. “You tell him. Later. I don’t want more headaches. Can we apparate? This is taking too long.”</p><p>“Smith said we should take it easy on magic,” Sirius said. “No apparating or spells on you for a while.”</p><p>Ha! “Does that mean you can’t do the ‘little ears’ again?”</p><p>I regretted my decision to let him carry me. I should have slithered home like the overcooked noodle I was because he had me in his power and utilised it.</p><p>“I can still send you out; you don’t need to involve yourself further in Harry’s business. Leave it to the adults.”</p><p>This from the wizard who had a massive fight with Molly when she wanted Harry not to know about the order. Well, I suppose Harry wasn’t five. </p><p>“As long as you tell me what’s going on.”</p><p>Then I could at least try to prevent the worst of it.</p><p>“If you or Harry need to know anything I will tell you. For now, we agree with the aurors that Harry will stay with us until we have the issue with the Dursleys sorted. And I will have you both promise that neither of you will run off and try to fix things on your own. Harry?”</p><p>“I won’t.”</p><p>“James?”</p><p>“I’m not promising anything.”</p><p>‘For now’, he had said. I’d be an idiot to promise only to break it.</p><p>“So be it.”</p><p>That didn’t sound good at all, I could practically hear the judge’s gavel banging down, but he didn’t elaborate. Nothing further was said, and at the dilapidated cottage we split up, Remus to start with dinner, and Sirius taking us up to sort us for the night.</p><p>Walking through the little cottage, Harry was all eyes and ears, and when Sirius finally dropped me onto my feet, he exchanged my foot for my hand, squeezing it tight. In my room, he looked at the small bed and leaned over to me.</p><p>He whispered, “There’s no cupboard downstairs.”</p><p>I sent Sirius an ‘I told you so’ look.</p><p>“I get it, James,” he said to me, looking close to fed-up. He turned to Harry. “You will share with this one, do you want to see how we make a bed?”</p><p>I also wanted to see, magic was the one thing that made being in this world worth it and I couldn’t get enough of it. I didn’t say so, though. I sat with Harry on my bed and we watched as Sirius transfigured the coffee table from downstairs into a small cot and mattress.</p><p>“You can’t do this with muggle furniture,” he explained. “Wizarding furniture is imbued with magic, making it easier to transfigure when we need it to be something else. If you tried it with muggle furniture it would break or act odd.”</p><p>He accio’d bedding and stood back, dissatisfied.</p><p>“It will have to do for today. I’ll buy something better tomorrow; you two need more than this, a closet for one, and we still need our coffee table.”</p><p>“Where will you buy it?” I asked, feeling the familiar excitement bubble up. I would be experiencing something that many fans had only dreamt of! Diagon Alley! I found enough energy to hop on the spot. “Diagon Alley? Right? Can we come?”</p><p>“It will depend on how well you behave.”</p><p>I scowled at him.</p><p>“What’s Diagon Alley?” Harry asked me.</p><p>I swallowed my irritation at Sirius and told the kid everything I knew about the magical district while Sirius dug out pajamas from the small suitcase of the dead James, bringing an extra set out for Harry. It was muggle clothes, we later learned, so couldn’t be adjusted. Harry had his ankles showing and it was a little tight but he didn’t mind.</p><p>But first, there was the issue of bathtime.</p><p>Last night was embarrassing and I had vowed not to repeat it. Especially not with another kid.</p><p>“I’m not going to share a bath,” I said and crossed my arms, preparing for a fight. “And I can do it on my own.”</p><p>The fight never came.</p><p>“All right,” Sirius said unfussed. “Do you want to go first or second?”</p><p>“Second,” I said at the same time that Harry offered that I go first.</p><p>“Harry can go first then,” Sirius decided. “Let’s take you to Remus.”</p><p>And that was what he did.</p><p>Without a ‘by your leave’, I found myself carried down to the kitchen and Remus. He was told to watch me, and I to stay there until Sirius fetched me. Or else.</p><p>“Or else what?” I asked.</p><p>Had he just threatened me? He had! What kind of threat was that? But he had already left.</p><p>“Here,” Remus said and placed a hot bowl of potatoes and a masher in front of me. “Do you know how to mash potatoes?”</p><p>“Probably better than you.”</p><p>“Yes? Then mash those for us while I finish the gravy.”</p><p>His eyes glittered and I realised he was near fed-up himself. I pulled my neck in.</p><p>“Do you have a ricer?”</p><p>“A what?”</p><p>“Nevermind.”</p><p>I picked the masher up and banged it into the potatoes.</p><p>“Why am I here?”</p><p>“It seems we will be supervising you until you promise not to run off,” Remus said.</p><p>“He could’ve at least said.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>Mashing potatoes was harder when you were small, but I gave it a good go and got rid of some frustration.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” I said once I did. “That was rude.”</p><p>Remus of yesterday would have said it was fine, but he had a watershed moment at the Longbottoms, I think. Now he said, “You often are.”</p><p>That was me told. I banged the masher with extra force into the bowl.</p><p>“You know,” he continued, “your dad has a reason to be upset with me, but you don’t. Unless you think he might have been a presence earlier in your life had he not gone to jail, and are blaming me for that?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Then you are simply a rude little boy?” He added salt and a pat of butter to the potatoes. “Mash that in, please. You were sick and had a hard time of it from all I heard, and I excused you also because of your age, but I won’t forever. It’s not a great thing to take our moods out on others.” He paused. “Or to copy someone’s attitude when you have no business in it.”</p><p>He was right. I knew it all along and didn’t need him to say it. I felt like a heel. My first thought was to attack, and ask him if he thought he had been such a great kid, but I bit my tongue. That would just be more of the same. People can grow; he obviously did. </p><p>“Sorry,” was all I could think to say and wished I could do more; I hated it when I messed up, and an apology felt so inadequate. “I’ll not do it again.”</p><p>“It’s fine,” he said, and reverted to his former sad mien with a suppressed sigh. “I’m not upset with you.”</p><p>We worked in silence for a while. Sirius and Harry were taking an inordinately long time. If I stopped banging, I could hear the rumble of Sirius's voice and Harry giggling. What were they doing up there? Having a party? The potatoes could do with more butter but I didn’t say. There were more I should apologise for.</p><p>“I’m sorry I stole your money. I’ll pay you back.”</p><p>“It was your dad’s money.”</p><p>“He said it was yours.”</p><p>He bowed his head. I watched his shoulders tense; then he shook himself out of it.</p><p>“All right. Apology accepted, don’t do it again.”</p><p>That didn’t quite feel satisfying, but it was not his job to make me feel better for the mistakes I made, was it? I tasted the mash and added some more salt.</p><p>I had cooled off some by the time Sirius fetched me again, but not completely.</p><p>“Don’t carry me,” I told him when he appeared with a freshly scrubbed Harry in tow. They had done a better job than Neville and his pond; the kid had a happy pink glow and smelled strongly of lavender. “I can walk.”</p><p>Remus organised Harry to set the table while I stomped off ahead of Sirius to take a bath.</p><p>“Are you going to police me when I sleep also? Or when I pee?”</p><p>“Do I have to?”</p><p>I decided it was easier not to talk to him and suffered his company while I washed up in a silent sulk. We’ll see who gave in first, shall we? When he dumped Remus’s lavender shampoo on my head and scrubbed my hair I hunched my shoulders and let him.</p><hr/><p>Dinner. We all watched as Harry snatched a sausage and scooped mash on his plate, lightning-fast, his butt not having hit the chair yet.</p><p>I put my troubles aside a moment to help him.</p><p>“You’re going to get enough food here,” I told him, settling opposite him. “You don’t need to grab.”</p><p>Twin shocked “James!” from Sirius and Remus.</p><p>“What? He needs to know it from the start or he’ll just feel embarrassed when we’re at Neville’s or something, ruining his day.”</p><p>I could imagine the scene, an acerbic Augusta telling the kid not to grab and him sinking into the ground, disappearing in a puddle of shame.</p><p>“Thank you,” Harry grinned at me. “If you think that’s fast you should see Dudders.”</p><p>He happily gossiped on about his cousin who could inhale any food in a room from the doorway and especially loved inhaling what was on Harry’s plate.</p><p>While Harry chatted away, Remus poured gravy for him, and when Remus said, “Tell me when,” he became the kid’s hero. The mash was in a flood before he said when.</p><p>To make sure the kid got it, I kneeled on my chair, reached over the table, and dropped another sausage into the mess on his plate.</p><p>Sirius said, “If you’re still hungry after we’ve eaten all, we can make more.”</p><hr/><p>I was ready for bed before the meal was over, nearly nodding off at the table. Sirius told Harry he could stay up still if he wanted, which was unfair, and I scowled sleepily at him; not my best scowl but a good effort all the same.</p><p>“I’ll go with Jamie,” Harry said. “Do you read to him?”</p><p>That woke me enough to sputter, “I don’t need anyone to read to me!”</p><p>“You don’t have to need it to like it,” Harry told me.</p><p>He attached himself to my hand and pulled me to the stairs, nattering on about how the librarian read to them at school and had said they should encourage their parents to read to them at bedtime also, as it fostered their imagination and more, but he couldn’t remember everything she said. I looked back at Sirius for help, and damn if the wizard wasn’t silently laughing at us.</p><p>“We don’t have any books, only newspapers,” I said, hoping to put a stop to that.</p><p>“You have some in your mother’s luggage,” Sirius reminded. “It seems like a good habit to start, don’t you think?”</p><p>I couldn’t answer. I suddenly felt breathless, the stairs too much to manage. He was going to read my book?</p><p>“I—”</p><p>“Your mother packed a few books, Jamie.” A hand steadied me from behind. “We’ll wait for you to have a look at them first,” Sirius said, being too perceptive to my liking. “Then you can decide if you want to keep any of it private. What if for tonight I told you a story instead?”</p><p>“That would be brilliant!” said Harry, clutching my hand. “Do you know lots? Did your mum tell them to you?”</p><p>We reached the landing, and I wobbled into the room, barely listening to Sirius’s answer. The two bright red suitcases stood sentinel at the foot end of my bed, one large, one small. I wanted to rush them, find my book and hide it—it held my future, one that might never happen and I couldn’t bear the thought of anyone reading it before I did.</p><p>“Teeth,” Sirius remembered with a suppressed groan and herded us out again. “Come, Jamie, don’t drag.”</p><p>“I’m not.”</p><p>Sirius charmed a copy of my toothbrush for Harry.</p><p>I brushed teeth next to an earnest-faced miniature Harry Potter with his bright green eyes, and the lightning-bolt scar peeking out under messy hair—so very much like his ghostly father’s. It brought me out of my anxious funk only to realise I had stepped into a twilight world. What was real? This? My old life? What if it had all been my imagination, like they insisted? No, I didn’t dream up those horrible headaches. I didn’t imagine the kid’s parents…</p><p>“What’s wrong with Jamie?” Harry asked.</p><p>I listened to Sirius tell him I was only tired and would feel better in the morning. I hoped he was right.</p><p>Done in, I crawled into bed and pulled the blankets over my head. This shouldn’t be about me, this should be about Harry and making his first night here memorable, but I couldn’t. I had my fill of the day. A, so very childish day. The bed dipped when Sirius settled beside me. He smoothed the blanket over me, his hand heavy and strangely comforting; I expected to be quizzed, and curled up like a hedgehog, but he patted my back, and let me be.</p><p>“I’ll tell you two about the witch and her endless pot of spaghetti, shall I?” he said. “Long ago…”</p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. An interlude</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>:) I was in the mood for fluff. Zero regrets.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I didn’t feel like going anywhere the next day and would have opted to stay in bed if not for Harry. Upon waking, I opened one eye, saw that it was sunny, and groaned. The blanket was halfway over my head when his urgent whisper stopped me.</p><p>“Jamie,” he hissed and I opened the other eye and turned to see him sitting up on his neatly made bed, arms clasped around his knees. “What time do they unlock the door?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Aunt Petunia unlocks the door at eight but I think it’s already past that…” He scrunched his face. “I need to pee.”</p><p>“The door is not locked, Harry. You can just go anytime you want.” I might kill that woman. “Anywhere also. If you want to pee or if you want to go eat, you can just go do those things,” I said and then had a semi-sensible moment. “The only rule will be don’t leave the garden without permission.”</p><p>The kid looked at me as if I was nuts.</p><p>“Those are your rules, Jamie,” he hissed. “Mine won’t be like that.”</p><p>“Our rules are the same. I swear. There's no cupboard, there are no different rules. Just go pee. Maybe knock on the bathroom door in case one of them is inside.”</p><p>He didn’t budge.</p><p>“Your dad didn’t say.”</p><p>I threw my cozy blankets off with some regret and crossed to the door to open it.</p><p>“See? Not locked.”</p><p>He still didn’t move a toe. Oh, for—stubborn kids will be the end of me.</p><p>“Do you want me to go with you to the bathroom?”</p><p>“Please.”</p><p>While he peed I pulled myself out of my funk. I had agreed to come, hadn’t I? This had been my choice. “Magic? Sign me up!” And hadn’t I decided in the hospital to stop crying about it?</p><p>“I’m done,” Harry said still in a whisper. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>“It’s nothing,” I said, shrugging it off. “Don’t forget to wash your hands.” The house was quiet around us. “Do you want to go back to sleep?”</p><p>“Do we have to?”</p><p>No, but I would have liked to.</p><p>“No, we can do what we want. Let’s dress and go down, maybe there’s breakfast already. And stop whispering, I promise you it’s fine.”</p><p>I pulled some clothes from the small suitcase, avoiding the larger one like the plague, and gave Harry the largest of the shorts and t-shirts. He had borrowed magical shoes from Neville the day before that they had resized and they were old-fashioned black leather, much like the ones you would wear at school. It looked odd but he didn’t care.</p><p>Downstairs the start of breakfast was sizzling on the stove, a pan of bacon about to burn, and no one in sight. I turned it off and moved to get the pan.</p><p>“Let me!” Harry said and was there before me, taking the pan to the table, his wiry little arms struggling under the weight. “I help Aunt Petunia,” he said, “so I know what to do.”</p><p>He looked around us at the half-assembled breakfast; there were fresh eggs and butter lying on the kitchen counter next to a cold pan, and a loaf of bread ready to be sliced.</p><p>“I bet they thought I would have come down earlier to help," Harry said. "Don’t touch the knife, okay? If you want to help, you can break the eggs, that’s fun!”</p><hr/><p>God, I’d like to break it. Over Petunia’s head. Or whichever of the two wizards had left breakfast half done. I thought I had an idea where they were and pulled a chair to the sink. Harry who was currently attached to my hip climbed up with me and together we looked through the window out into the messy backyard at Sirius and Remus.</p><p>“What are they doing?” he asked.</p><p>“Fighting.”</p><p>Remus was the one doing most of the talking today. He didn’t have Sirius’s waving arms and excitement but instead held his body tense. It was obvious that Sirius didn’t like what he had to say, and I expected his wand to come out any moment.</p><p>“They do it once a day.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“Ask them.”</p><p>Remus was still talking and Sirius bent forward as if he was going to bite him, his mouth curling into a snarl. How long until the twins made their extendable ears? I would have loved to hear what they were fighting about this time.</p><p>I yanked Harry from the chair when both wizards suddenly turned to look at the house, feeling our eyes, but I was too slow and they entered moments later, Sirius in the lead.</p><p>“I talked about this, James,” Sirius said, irritated. “Don’t spy on us.”</p><p>“I was not! We were just seeing where you were—the bacon was burning.”</p><p>“I removed it,” Harry said quickly, stepping in front of me. “Don’t worry, I didn’t let Jamie touch the pan,” he said and his hand came back like Remus’s once before to check if I was safely tucked in behind him, giving me a reassuring squeeze.</p><p>This was probably my fault for yanking him off the chair as if we had done something wrong as much as Sirius’s for his glower. Sirius looked at Harry shielding me and you could see him pull himself up, guilt flashing across his face. That didn’t matter. I was fully prepared to snap at Sirius anyway.</p><p>“You need to stop fighting, you’re going to make Harry think we’re worse than the Dursleys. Do you know what he did today? He—”</p><p>The kid twisted around and slammed his hand over my mouth, his eyes pleading.</p><p>“Mfgh!”</p><p>This was Remus’s cue to push past Sirius and save the day.</p><p>“Good morning James, Harry. James, kindly don’t tell us Harry’s business, he can do it himself when he feels like it. Sirius, set the table, please, and pass me that butter. Who wants to crack eggs?”</p><p>After a near imperceptible pause, Sirius passed the butter even though Remus was closer, and we all let Remus organise us until breakfast was on the table and we had taken our seats. All. Which meant Sirius also. He tried to escape once but Remus was between him and the door in a flash, handing him a spoon to stir the porridge, and after that he accepted his lot.</p><p>No one was quite happy, at least Sirius pretended he was, and I could see the same bulldog expression on Remus, and Harry’s faces, they were trying to make this work. Harry was talking away, spilling more of his business than he knew, and the two wizards did not notice that they were working together for once, prompting him to tell them more each time his chatter lagged. Every so often one of the three would send a concerned glance my way. Don’t ask me why, all I did was sit quietly in my chair, minding my own business and having a think.</p><hr/><p>Okay, so let us take stock.</p><p>Sirius didn’t believe I was an adult. Nor did Kingsley. That was not news. Oh, Sirius at least had said in the park that he believed that I thought I was one; it felt like we had passed years since then. He also knew I was going to lose my memories, or at least that I was afraid I would, and had brought me the diary which I had yet to use. In short, they thought I was a confused kid, traumatised by the attack on my mother and myself, and seemed to be playing along until they could lift the geas.</p><p>What did they expect to find when they did? The names of our attackers perhaps. I had forgotten about them. Somewhere out there were people who had killed Janet Taylor and effectively her son. Lily had found Jamie when he crossed over, hadn’t she? Would they try again? Maybe. If I had some knowledge that they didn’t want to get out. Like their names and faces.</p><p>I shivered.</p><p>No, I needed to be sensible about it, my story was all over the Daily Prophet, so of course my attackers knew. And there had been no attempts on my life up to now so they surely didn’t worry about me, and I shouldn’t about them.</p><p>I sighed. This wasn’t helping much.</p><p>Harry placed a buttered toast on my plate.</p><p>Oh, I was being too concerned about myself and would do well to pay more attention to him. That was why I was here, wasn’t I? To expose Pettigrew—done, save Black—done, give Harry a better life—in progress. To do still: find some way of killing Voldemort, perhaps throw a few Death Eaters in jail, and finish it off by improving the conditions for werewolves. All while running the government with my pinky finger. And don’t forget the horcruxes. The harem was cancelled.</p><p>“So, are we going to Diagon Alley today?” I asked Sirius. </p><p>Harry would like that.</p><hr/><p>Turns out we were all going, Remus included. I had the ‘why?’ on the tip of my tongue but I was a day older and thus a day wiser and swallowed it back. It was their business if they wanted to spend their day together. Maybe they liked fighting.</p><p>“Do I have your promise not to run off, James?” Sirius asked in front of the hearth.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>I was excited for my first Floo experience and wanted to see Harry’s face when he realised we were going to step into the fire. Why was Sirius still going on about this? Oh, don’t tell me—</p><p>“If I say no, you’re going to leave me here, right?”</p><p>“No. We won’t leave anyone behind,” Remus answered for him. “If you say no it means you will be holding one of our hands the whole time.”</p><p>He didn’t sound too happy about it and I wondered if that was what today’s fight had been about. Me? Probably not.</p><p>“Or you will be carried,” Sirius said knowing full well how much I detested that. A worthy threat. “Which will it be, Jamie?”</p><p>“I’ll hold your hand,” Harry offered.</p><p>“I have no plans to run off.”</p><p>But if I saw something I needed to do, I didn’t want to be held back by a promise. Would that be enough?</p><p>It wasn’t.</p><p>“Hand it is,” Sirius said and held his out.</p><p>We stepped in the Floo two-by-two, and if it wasn’t for the tight hold Sirius had on my hand the maelstrom of hearths swirling around us would have grabbed me off into the void, never to return. I closed my eyes and mouth and left it to Sirius to save me. You can keep floo travel, I wanted none of it.</p><p>“Brilliant!” Harry said when Remus helped him out and then bent over and coughed a shovel full of soot out of his lungs while Remus slapped his back.</p><p>“I forgot to close my mouth!”</p><p>He turned back to the hearth with stars in his eyes.</p><p>“I saw a big giant, and a woman cooking! Can they see into our house also?”</p><p>“Only if we leave the fire open,” Remus answered and the two of them nattered on about the miracle that was floo travel.</p><p>I looked up at Sirius and told him I didn’t like it at all and we had better not return that way.</p><p>“Did you not sleep well last night?” he asked.</p><p>“I slept fine.”</p><p>“Wait until I tell the kids at school!” Harry exclaimed, unknowingly saving me from Sirius’s concern, and that prompted us to go take a break for ice cream at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour.</p><p>There Remus told him about the Statute of Secrecy while I ate minty ice cream slugs—that moved!—delighting in chomping their heads first, spilling their gooey green guts. Sirius opted for boring chocolate flavour but the way he savoured every bite was enough to remind me that he was still fresh out of Azkaban. He managed so well that I sometimes forgot. Feeling sorry for him I offered a taste of my slugs but he refused.</p><p>“Thanks, kid.” He grinned. “I had enough of bugs to last me a lifetime.”</p><p>Oh, yes.</p><p>“It’s not real slugs.”</p><p>“I am aware.”</p><p>He did his best to hide the haunted look in his eyes behind his smile and I did him a favour and pretended not to see it. Another reminder that it wasn’t all about me. Not knowing what else to do I reached over the sticky plastic table and patted his arm. When we left—Harry now informed to Remus’s satisfaction—I offered my hand without being asked.</p><hr/><p>It was probably good Sirius held my hand or I would have walked into a wall or three for sure. Remus found himself steering Harry around obstacles also and I think the two wizards shared a smile at our expense but that must have been my imagination, the two tolerated each other at best.</p><p>Diagon Alley was the most magical place in the world.</p><p>Well, how else should I describe it?</p><p>The cobbled street was lined with quaint magical shops, wizards and witches in colourful robes going in and out. Sirius was good at following wherever I dragged him and Harry and I pressed our faces against dusty windows to try and peer into the gloom. On one a face peered back, a witch with warts and all cackling at our fright. A puppet, Remus explained with a rare grin. On another we were scared off by a skeletal hand knocking on the glass from the inside, throwing a rude sign.</p><p>The morning was quiet and there were not many people in the shops yet, which was good or I am sure we would have been mobbed otherwise. As it was everyone that we passed turned to look at us and whispers followed us around. The braver wizards and witches stopped us for a chat, either to coo over us—is that your son? And Harry Potter?!—or to tell Sirius they knew he hadn’t been guilty. He kept his cool remarkably well, and for that we had to thank Remus who would step in as soon as good manners allowed with an excuse to get going again, the kids are getting tired, being the most used one.</p><p>Not all of the shops had a dusty neglected look to them. We entered one with bright windows and cheerful staff, and what looked like a small shop from the outside, had been expanded inside to be larger than a warehouse and was filled with furniture from one end to the other. The witch that assisted us flirted outrageously with Sirius.</p><p>We chose a bunk bed. Harry and I decided together that it would leave more floor space in the room, and what kid didn’t want a bunk bed? Sirius also chose a bookcase, a chest, and two dressers.</p><p>“It won’t fit,” I told him stupidly, remembering the small room. </p><p>He twirled his finger in the air, telling me to look around us and it took me a moment.</p><p>“You can do that?”</p><p>“With some help. Choose a colour for the curtains.”</p><p>“Blue,” I said.</p><p>“Green,” Harry said, then retracted it to—“I meant blue.”—while I was already offering that I liked green also.</p><p>“Aren’t you two cute,” the salesgirl said and pinched our cheeks. “Don’t you worry, I have just the thing.”</p><p>The curtains she pulled out had a dense jungle against a bright blue sky, leaves rustling in a breeze, and monkeys peeking at us through the foliage. Like everything else in this magical world, it actually moved about and if you listened well there were sounds. According to the witch it changed to the moon and stars at night, though she told Sirius, not us. I crossed my eyes and Harry pulled a face at being ignored. I turned to see what Remus thought of this but he was looking off in the distance, pretending everyone of us didn’t exist. Our room’s colour scheme became blue and green.</p><p>Sirius brought more stuff for the sitting room to which Remus protested until he asked if Remus expected everyone to sit on the floor. The witch got Sirius to buy more than we needed, I was sure. Harry was mostly oblivious but Remus not, and when he tried to object, Sirius went ahead and added two ridiculous standing lamps that looked like a madman had made them. I’d bet money that the things were set on killing us while we slept. Art, the girl called it, and praised Sirius for his taste.</p><p>“I hope you’re not thinking of putting that in our room,” I told him.</p><p>“The sitting room needs some light. Besides, it’s art.” His grin was wicked.</p><p>He also brought a large double bed, testing out the mattress. Remus said nothing on that but walked off for a while, leaving me and Harry to tag along with Sirius. When Remus was gone Sirius brought a dog bed and paid.</p><p>For the next four shops, Harry couldn’t stop talking about the dollhouse-sized furniture in the bag that Sirius let him carry.</p><p>He only stopped talking after Sirius herded us inside a toy shop and said, “Go get five toys each, I don’t care what they are. We’ll wait.”</p><p>We didn’t move.</p><p>“What are you two waiting for?”</p><p>“Toys for who?” Harry asked, pinching his fingers behind his back until they were white.</p><p>“Choose five toys for yourself, Harry, and Jamie will do the same for him.”</p><p>Toys! Magical toys that could maybe do anything. I remembered the toy wands the kids had used to draw with in the hospital—what other amazing things would they have? But also… I had spent a lot of time trying to convince everyone I was an adult.</p><p>“You can have ten,” I told Harry. “I don’t need any. Do you want me to help you choose?”</p><p>“I’m not getting any if you’re not,” Harry said and raised his chin.</p><p>I was fast learning that the kid was damn stubborn when he wanted to be.</p><p>“Mother of God,” Sirius said. “Five toys each and either the two of you choose or I do and then it would be—” He cast his eyes around us. We were standing next to the counter still and it had small lucky packet toys like you would find in your happy meal and he grabbed a handful. “These!”</p><p>I couldn’t let Harry suffer with those as his first real toys, could I? And besides, I could always pretend they were for me and just choose some more for the kid.</p><p>“Come on before he has a fit; we’ll choose together so we don’t get the same stuff. Then we’ll have more to play with.”</p><p>I’ll spare you the childish details on what we chose, suffice it to say Harry was walking on clouds, and I was looking forward to… helping him enjoy the toys.</p><hr/><p>I was just as awkward as Harry when it came to buying clothes.</p><p>“I have enough at home, just get for Harry.”</p><p>“The ones you have won’t last,” Sirius insisted. “They’re muggle.”</p><p>He held yet another t-shirt against me while Remus was following a similar conversation with Harry.</p><p>“I have the one from Neville and I can get Jamie’s old stuff,” Harry said when Sirius passed a larger shirt for Remus to measure against him. “I don’t mind if it’s muggle.”</p><p>“You should mind,” Remus said. “Muggle clothes are the first to fail if someone hexed you. And you’re older than Jamie, he’ll probably get to wear your old stuff.”</p><p>“Sooner than you think,” Sirius added, scowling at me. “Since he doesn’t want any of his own.”</p><p>“I really don’t.” I scowled back. “You should be happy, it will save your money.”</p><p>“Don’t concern yourself with our finances,” Sirius said with a long-suffering sigh. “I can buy you clothes until you’re old and grey and still have left over.”</p><p>“I’ll buy my own. If you want to you can put that one back and give the money to Remus for what I owe him.”</p><p>“I would rather you pulled some weeds and felt the consequences.”</p><p>Oh, didn’t I say? For my sins which amounted to one galleon and seven sickles, Sirius had decided I would pull weeds. Four sickles for a half hour’s toil spread out over a week. It was embarrassing to the extreme but I didn’t protest the sentencing since the wrong was mine. Still. Embarrassing.</p><p>“Right.” Sirius straightened up. “This is too frustrating and the way it’s going we will be here the whole day. Let’s make a deal.”</p><p>The deal was that if Harry and I chose one item of clothing we liked they would not bother us with the rest. I stuck my hand into the shelf next to me, grabbed the first thing I touched, and passed it on to Sirius. A lurid yellow t-shirt.</p><p>He took it without a word, exchanged it for one my size, and through clenched teeth said, “Thank you, James. That was so kind. Now you, Harry.”</p><p>Harry was more conservative. It took him five minutes—I timed it—and he came up with a pair of green socks. Sirius thanked him for that also and then pointed us to the bank of chairs next to the wall.</p><p>“Go sit. Harry, hold Jamie’s hand if you please.”</p><p>Things went much smoother without us, I agree. The two circled through the shop and picked out clothes in a coordinated dance, items flying through the air to sort themselves into a tidy stack on the counter. Harry and I watched in awe.</p><p>At one point the kid squeezed my hand hard and leaned over to whisper, “Aunt Petunia hates magic.”</p><p>“How about you?”</p><p>But I didn’t need to ask, his whole face shone with delight.</p><hr/>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Time flies</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The mere idea of going through the Floo had me nauseous, so Sirius took Harry and me back on the Knight Bus while Remus floo’d off with the shopping. But we didn’t go home. Sirius paid for three to ‘The Burrow’ and the bus dropped us outside a farm gate.</p><p>Where he held his hand out to me and said, “Hand, Jamie.”</p><p>Oh for fuck’s sake! </p><p>“Why?” I windmilled my arms around at the open farmland all around us. “Where will I run off to that you won’t see me?!”</p><p>“I’ll watch him,” Harry offered, looking worried between the two of us.</p><p>“It’s not your job to watch me,” I told him, trying not to snap.</p><p>“Yes, it’s mine,” Sirius said. “Are you ready to promise that you won’t run off?”</p><p>I held out my hand.</p><p>“You’re taking this to ridiculous extremes.”</p><p>“Is that so? You’ve seen nothing yet.”</p><p>“Whatever. I’m not talking to you anymore.”</p><p>Why did I think the nice morning would last? The three of us set off through the gate down a dirt road, and soon rounded a small hill where we found the Burrow hiding behind an apple orchard. The multistoried farmhouse looked as if a giant baby had played lego, and I loved it; the Potterhead in me did a happy little jig.</p><p>What I also would have loved was to know why we were here, but that was difficult to achieve while I wasn’t talking. Or not. If he wanted to be ridiculous, I could also.</p><p>“Harry, ask Sirius why we’re here, will you?”</p><p>The kid looked at me with some pity but was game. If nothing else, the morning in the shops had made him relax around Sirius and Remus.</p><p>“Sirius, Jamie wants to know why we are here.”</p><p>“Does he? Hm. We’ve been invited to lunch. Molly wanted to say thank you to Jamie, and I thought the two of you could make some more friends. They have a boy and girl your age, Harry.”</p><p>“Ask him why Remus didn’t come,” I said.</p><p>“No, don’t,” Sirius said before Harry could. “Remus has things to do, James. Mind your manners while we’re here, please. You will stop this nonsense and be polite.”</p><p>“I’ll be polite to everyone but you.”</p><p>I shook our clasped hands in case he forgot why I was pissed off.</p><p>“Sirius Black! There you are!” Molly Weasley called from the house and hurried to meet us halfway. “I’m so glad you came!”</p><p>She then did what only could be described as clasped him to her bosom. It felt odd to see; in my mind I still had them fighting in Grimmauld over Harry, barely tolerating each other.</p><p>He was a good deal taller than her but it didn’t matter one whit to Molly, she hugged Sirius until he started twitching. Still attached to his hand, I had an uncomfortable moment being too near the hug, and then I was swept up into it also. She smelled of apple pie and vanilla, and her face went soft.</p><p>“And you!” she exclaimed, hugging me tightly. “Hello again, Jamie dear. Thank you, love, for getting rid of Scabbers. We were all fooled…”</p><p>Sirius extracted me from her grip when she started tearing up, and handed her a handkerchief.</p><p>“Thank you, love,” she said with a sniffle. “Oh, I’m so sorry for all the awful things we thought about you back then!”</p><p>“I would have done the same, Molly,” he said and very handily escaped a second hug by pulling Harry forward. “Think nothing of it. Have you met my godson, Harry?”</p><p>“Oh, Harry! Where were you hiding, let me have a look at you! Exactly like your father!” she exclaimed past her handkerchief and proceeded to hug him also, nearly crushing his glasses. “Welcome, Harry. My Ron and Ginny were looking forward to meeting you!”</p><p>“They were?” he asked confused and it made me wonder if anyone of us had told him he was the wizarding world’s hero yet.</p><p>“Of course. And Percy wanted to thank you personally, Jamie. Shall we go inside? Poor Percy is in a state.”</p><hr/><p>And he was. We found him inside; a pale imitation of the tentacle boy who worried about school only, he lay in their sitting room under a pink quilt. He started to thank me and succeeded halfway before the rest of his family was on us, pouring down the stairs, from the doors, and I swear from the windows.</p><p>Everyone had a hard time deciding who they were more impressed with, me for saving them from a murderer in their home, Harry for saving the whole of wizarding Britain, or Sirius for having been through Azkaban and lived to tell the tale.</p><p>I could see the crowd getting to be too much for Sirius, and Molly, noticing the same, chased all the kids out to go play, “You also, Percy!”</p><p>“Not you, James,” Sirius said when I made to follow them, having heard the magical word said by one of the boys: Quidditch.</p><p>I stopped in my tracks.</p><p>“You’re kidding me.”</p><p>He wasn’t kidding. He also did not look in the mood to kid.</p><p>At all.</p><p>“I’ll have your promise first,” he said, “or you’ll stay here with me.”</p><p>“Fine.” By now it was a matter of pride. “I didn’t want to go anyway.”</p><p>So what if I skipped today. I will see enough quidditch games in the years to come, and Harry was turning out to be a right chatterbox, he would tell me everything.</p><p>But Harry returned when he didn’t see me outside.</p><p>“I’ll stay with you, Jamie. We can help with lunch.”</p><p>We were at an impasse. Neither Sirius nor I wanted Harry to miss out on anything because of us.</p><p>“What’s going on, Sirius?” Molly asked and shooed her brood out when they came to demand to know the same.</p><p>Sirius told her not to mind us. Harry offered to watch me while we played, and I told him again it was not his job.</p><p>“If Sirius wants to bloody watch me he should do it himself.”</p><p>“Perhaps you want to go with the boys,” Molly suggested to Sirius when she understood what it was about. “A little fresh air will do you good also, hm?”</p><p>“Not today, Molly,” he said and I caught the tired flash in his eyes before he narrowed them on me. “Your option is here in the kitchen, or there on that sofa where I can see you,” he said, pointing to a sofa visible from the kitchen. “Or with your nose in a corner if you’re going to be rude. It's up to Harry if he wants to go play or not.”</p><p>Corner. Suddenly I missed Remus. He always manages to de-escalate us so effortlessly. I knew better than to ask for him, though, it would be like setting a match to the volatile wizard now glaring at me. My chin wobbled. What the hell? I could excuse myself from crying on the train, it had been late and I was homesick, but there was no way in hell I was going to let myself cry now.</p><p>“I’ll leave you three to sort it then,” Molly said kindly and shooed her brood off a second time, Percy having come to ask if he could stay also. “No, you can’t, Percy. Out with you, you need sun.”</p><p>“I don’t even like flying, Mum.”</p><p>“Then you sit under a tree.”</p><p>She flapped a dishcloth at him.</p><p>“Fly?” Harry asked. “We can fly?”</p><p>“Yeah,” I told him, forgetting Sirius a moment, “<em>on a broom.</em>”</p><p>“That’s… that’s…”</p><p>He looked fit to burst at the exciting and utterly outrageous possibility of flying on brooms, and then he deflated with a giggle.</p><p>“You’re lying!” he accused without venom.</p><p>“Am not!”</p><p>“‘s true,” one of the twins said, sticking his head around the door. “Are you coming or not? Your brother’s too young anyway, we don’t have a kiddy broom.”</p><p>Someone behind him told him we were not brothers.</p><p>Harry was visibly torn between staying and going. I kicked myself for not having thought to look for the Quidditch shop in Diagon; there had been so much to do and the morning had flown past us.</p><p>“It’s okay,” Harry told him at last. “Next time. I’ll stay with Jamie today.”</p><p>I turned to Sirius. I would have liked to give him a good kick also.</p><p>“I promise. I promise I won’t go off anywhere by myself but only for today.”</p><p>That had better be good enough.</p><p>If it wasn’t I was surely going to throw a hell of a tantrum and learn how much fun staring at a corner was. Had my mum ever done that to me? I couldn’t remember. I had been a well-behaved kid, I think. Well. Times changed.</p><p>“Thank you,” Sirius said and he had the decency not to crow. “You may go play.”</p><p>There was one more thing, and I pressed it.</p><p>“Tell Harry he doesn’t have to watch me.”</p><p>I could just imagine it already, all Harry’s fun spoiled because he stuck by my side, especially if there was no way for me to fly yet.</p><p>“And that he’s allowed to fly even if I can’t.”</p><p>“You can fly also, Jamie,” Molly called from the kitchen. “You need one of the older kids to help you; let Bill take you.”</p><hr/><p>We stayed as long as it took for Sirius to instruct Harry that he was not to mind me and then legged it. We ran after the Weasley kids, across their farm, past a pond, and over fences until we reached a wide-open field where we all fell breathless on the grass. There was no one around for miles, and nothing except for a lonely little shed next to the gate. “Why here?” I asked.</p><p>“Dad charmed the field to make us bounce if we fell,” Percy said. “And it’s got Muggle repellent charms but we’re not supposed to do that so don’t tell.”</p><p>“We won’t,” Harry promised by my side.</p><p>He lay spread-eagled on his back, staring at the sky. If you saw the kid’s face you would swear he had found heaven. I couldn’t wait for him to try flying.</p><p>“Also it’s far enough for Mum so she won’t have a fit if we do tricks,” Ron added. “She worries.”</p><p>This caused his brothers to tease him that he didn’t know any tricks and could barely raise the broom yet. It was all in good fun and Bill stopped them when they became too rough.</p><p>Growing up as a single kid it was odd to be part of such a big group and I could see Harry felt the same. He was a pure Gryffindor, though.</p><p>“I bet I could fly to the clouds!”</p><p>Someone said ‘let’s do it, then’, and the group was up as one, and rushed to the shed. There were seven of them and only five brooms. Percy bowed out of it, he turned green just at the mention of taking a turn and suffered their ribbing for it, and that meant Ginny and Ron shared one broom. The two started fighting immediately on whether they should take turns or fly tandem.</p><p>“Or you could lend Harry the broom to try it since he’s the guest,” seventeen-year-old Bill said.</p><p>“You could,” Ron countered. “You’re older so you flew much more than us already, and you fly in school. Harry will like flying with me more anyway.”</p><p>“If he likes to fly like a granny!” one of the twins yelled, zooming up into the sky, his sibling on his heels.</p><p>Later that night in our new bedroom when Harry and I recounted our day, we would agree that it was good we had been lying down already or we would have fallen flat on our arses at seeing that.</p><p>Harry and I were not being ignored.</p><p>“Come on you two,” Bill said. “The brooms are a bit wonky so it's better to get used to it. You can go with me and Charlie the first time, then you can try it on your own—you too, Jamie, I could fly well enough when I was five.”</p><p>We flew. Don’t ask me to describe it, I can’t. Flying… no, soaring through the sky, all your troubles seemed so inconsequential and you never wanted to come down. Once everyone had their brooms under control, we played a wild game of quidditch against the other four, Ron and Ginny having finally decided to go tandem.</p><p>Bill made me sit in front of him and let me hold the bat to hit the bludger while he took care of the quaffle, and Charlie the same with Harry. The goals were wispy smoke rings, hovering in the air, there were no keepers, and everyone were beaters, chasers, and seekers, trying like mad to get one over on the other team and catch the snitch at the same time.</p><p>The group had only one bludger that was old as dust and easy to hit. So easy that they had made a house rule if the bludger touched you, you had to freeze in the air for five seconds or concede a point.</p><p>The same with the snitch. The tiny winged ball was well used and at times scraped the grass, but still managed to pick up a burst of speed whenever anyone came near.</p><p>The twins fell so many times that I thought they did it deliberately, especially when they bounced quite acrobatically on the grass. Ginny steered their broom, and Ron wielded the bat; they were too slow to do much, but together they managed to smack a few bludgers that we sent their way, and also scored an own goal.</p><p>Charlie caught the snitch but said if he had waited a second longer, Harry would have. The twins declared it was the best game ever, and this was the closest they had come to nearly winning against their older brothers.</p><p>Afterwards, they let Harry and me try it on our own and I wasn’t any better than Ginny in keeping it in the air but also not worse!</p><p>“It’s the broom, Jamie,” Charlie said. “You need one for your age.”</p><p>Harry flew high and managed a swoop on his own before falling and I had a heart-stopping moment watching him tumble to the ground before he bounced, once, twice, and landed on his feet. Fred and George declared him a natural.</p><p>When Sirius came to fetch us for lunch, Harry and I rushed towards him, taking turns to tell him about this utterly amazing invention called flying on a broom as if he didn’t know; and Quidditch; and exactly how many times we managed to hit or not hit the bludger; and that I managed to fly on my own, and Harry detailed his swoop for nearly a full minute. We were near the house before I realised I was swinging on his hand while nattering on—when did that happen?—and dropped it like a hot potato.</p><hr/><p>We left the Weasleys with a clock.</p><p>Remus, Harry, and I stared at it while Sirius hung it up in the kitchen. A large, pearly circle, it did not tell the time at all but had hands with each of our names in curly script, and sections that said, ‘home’, ‘school’, ‘work’, ‘travelling’, ‘lost’, ‘hospital’, ‘in trouble’, and ‘mortal peril’.</p><p>It was exactly like the one on the Weasleys’ living room wall. Prison was absent, I saw, which hopefully meant Sirius had set it in his mind not to go on killing sprees. Harry thought it was brilliant. He had thought that one was brilliant too.</p><p>Currently, all the hands pointed to ‘home’. I looked at Remus. His face was impassive and he ignored me. He was right to, for I was the reason for our new accessory. Sirius had found a workaround to my refusal to promise. When my clock-hand hit travelling he’d know to start sniffing me out, he said. I would now have the same rules as Harry, he’d expect me to inform him or Remus if I wanted to go off anywhere and he’d deal with it if I didn’t.</p><p>“What do you mean, ‘<em>deal with it</em>’?” I asked.</p><p>“You’ll see.”</p><p>What was that except a red flag in front of a bull? Or a bull-headed five-year-old in this instance?</p><p>I snapped.</p><p>“No, you can’t say ‘<em>you’ll see’</em>,” I said. “If you want to have kids you have to put clear rules and consequences. Think of Harry, he was locked in a cupboard every time Petunia wanted to punish him, you have to tell him you’re not going to do that—”</p><p>“Only the one time,” Harry protested.</p><p>“—it would have escalated, Harry, and it was already <em>days</em>. Let me ask you, did you like it when Sirius said ‘<em>you’ll see</em>’?” I did my best to mimic Sirius’s grating tone.</p><p>Remus, I saw, was perking up in the background, starting to enjoy himself, while Sirius was back to scowling at me. Tough. I ignored them and concentrated on Harry. Hopping on the spot, I was practically vibrating with annoyance.</p><p>“It made you scared, yes? What did you think when he said that? Your first thought!”</p><p>“That you’d see the cupboard,” Harry said with a quick grin.</p><p>I didn’t understand what the kid thought was so funny.</p><p>“Because I’m going to follow <em>all the rules</em>,” he said.</p><p>Ah.</p><p>I scowled at Harry before turning to do the same up at Sirius.</p><p>“I grant you, Sirius, you’re effective in scaring us into listening—well, Harry anyway. If that was what you wanted your parenting style to be, good job. <em>I don’t like it!</em>”</p><p>“Are you quite done?”</p><p>I considered it.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“Then take yourself off to your room and have a nap. I’ll have a list of rules and consequences ready for when you wake.”</p><p>Did I just win or did I lose?</p><p>“Can you get there on your own steam,” Sirius asked, “or do you need carrying?”</p><p>I only went up because I had been thinking of taking a nap anyway. This body had stores of energy but when they ran out you felt like you had been hit by a brick wall. It had been a very busy day, and Molly’s huge lunch had done a good job in making me sleepy.</p><p>Harry went with me, insisting that he’d like a nap also. Once we stopped admiring our new room—Remus had been busy while we were out—he told me I had lost.</p><p>“Think of it, Jamie,” he explained from the top bunk. “You can’t fight a list but a ‘you’ll see’ you can negotiate. Do you know what ‘negotiate’ means?”</p><p>“If you say so,” I grumbled into my new pillow.</p><p>I was not an idiot, I knew more words than he, I said, not wanting to admit he was right. Or that a seven-year-old was wiser in the ways of being a kid than I.</p><p>“They thought we were brothers,” Harry mused.</p><p>Huh. I hadn’t thought of that. If we grew up together we’d be as good as. If we wanted to be. I found myself liking the idea. A lot. Perhaps Sirius had it right, I might have a little bit of hero worship going on here. </p><p>“Do you want to be?” I asked him, unable to rein in my curiosity.</p><p>“I’m not going to stay, Jamie. Aunt Petunia will want me back.”</p><p><em>‘For what?’</em> and <em>‘She can’t have you!’</em> were bursting to be said but I checked myself. He sounded like he wanted her to want him back. And why wouldn’t he? They were the only family he had known, and for family not to want you must be a terrible thing.</p><p>“Okay, but we want you too, just remember that.”</p><p>“Thank you.” He sighed. “Go sleep before your dad comes to nag at you.”</p><hr/><p>When I woke it was to find Dumbledore in our kitchen.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Decisions decisions</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When I woke it was to find Dumbledore in our kitchen, drinking tea with Sirius and Remus.</p><p>Fuck. Not now! All the fanfiction I had ever read came to mind, making my stomach churn. I stopped short and Harry trampled my heels. As much as I didn’t want it, Dumbledore bashing was mixed with my memories of the books and I desperately tried to untangle it.</p><p>Was he the wizard who worked for the greater good against all else? Or the one that sacrificed himself to save his people. It couldn’t be so black and white but did it matter in this instance? He was the wizard who dropped Harry at the Dursleys without explaining and the one that kept him there despite the kid asking for help. That was all I needed to know at the moment.</p><p>“Who’s that?” Harry whispered in awe.</p><p>And rightly too, for Dumbledore was everything that a wizard should be if you grew up on fairy tales which both Harry and I did. Tall and thin, Albus Dumbledore wore a dazzling midnight blue robe on which a galaxy of stars shimmered, his silver beard was long enough to lie curled in his lap, and his light blue eyes twinkled—honest to god—behind the half-moon spectacles that perched on an impossibly long and crooked nose. All of this magnificence was topped with a pointy red velvet hat decorated with crescent moons… like a cherry on a cake.</p><p>He noticed us first. </p><p>“You must be James,” he said, looking straight into my eyes.</p><p>I expected the familiar buzz of legilimency to start in my head. The healers had tried in St Mungo’s but found my mind not impenetrable but blank. They could not discover anything about my past that way, and were unable to see my present thoughts also. Obliviated, they thought, by persons unknown, and the rest was put down to the geas, or so Smith had told me at Neville’s. Would Dumbledore be better at it than the healers?</p><p>I did not find out. The buzz never came; he wasn’t trying to read my mind right then. And anyway, I wasn’t staying to see if he would. I grabbed Harry by the wrist and yanked him after me, making a beeline for the back door. ‘You must be James’, what did he know? What had he heard?</p><p>“If I must,” I told Dumbledore. “A word outside, Sirius, if you please?”</p><p>Amusement flashed across Dumbledore’s face as we passed him and I decided I wasn’t going to like him. To be safe I dragged Harry to the farthest corner in the garden, the one that I had by now designated in my mind as the fighting spot.</p><p>“I don’t think your dad’s coming,” Harry said unnecessarily. I could see for myself that no one had followed us. “That’s a real wizard, right? Did you see all the stars? One time Dudders threw glitter all over…”</p><p>He continued talking but I was only listening with half an ear, intent on watching the kitchen door that we had left open behind us.</p><p>If Sirius didn’t come I was going to look like an idiot.</p><hr/><p>Not only that, but I was also questioning the wisdom of going directly to the fighting spot—he might not listen to what I wanted to say by pure association. I kicked at a patch of burnt grass. We should have retreated to our room. No, this was better, we would be blocked in upstairs. And what was I going to say anyway that won’t have me writhing in pain? I should have thought about that first. I scowled at the door, willing him to appear; there was no way I was returning to the kitchen, if he didn’t come we would go to Neville’s.</p><p>It wasn’t necessary to take Harry to Neville’s and beg asylum from ‘Aunt Augusta’. Sirius finally appeared in the doorway, his face impassive, and he paused a near imperceptible moment when he saw where we stood before he crossed the small lawn to us. I wondered if I could hide behind Harry. Harry reached for my hand and Sirius’s eyes flicked towards the move. I raised my chin.</p><p>I was ready for a fight. To tell him that I would just get Harry, again and again, each time Dumbledore took him away. That he shouldn’t underestimate either my size or my willingness to go ahead and make his life difficult if he didn’t listen. To list all the abuse that Harry had told us about by now in case he had forgotten it already...</p><p>“Please don’t let him take Harry,” I said.</p><p>“Be careful what you say, Jamie, we don’t know if the geas will escalate,” he said, taking the wind from my sails.</p><p>Oh, god. I didn’t want to black out, I felt sick just thinking about the pain. I didn’t know what to feel about this. Sirius getting it was the last thing I had expected.</p><p>“How?”</p><p>He reached out and rubbed my head.</p><p>“It’s obvious that you knew what he was here for, kid. It’s not a huge leap from there.”</p><p>Harry’s sweaty hand clenched in mine.</p><p>“He’s here for me?”</p><p>“Yes,” Sirius answered before I could and he crouched next to us, resting a knee on the burnt grass. “But we’ll not let him take you if you don’t want to. Do you want to go back to your aunt and uncle?”</p><p>“You can’t ask him that!” I said and pushed myself between them. “You know he will say yes because he thinks they still want him.”</p><p>“They did want him, James.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>I sputtered while Harry did a weak and much too happy sounding ‘they did?’ beside me. I turned to him.</p><p>“You can’t go back there, Harry, you know it!”</p><p>“I…” he faltered and looked to Sirius for help.</p><p>“They promised to give you your own room and to treat you better,” Sirius said. “We will have our people follow up on them, Harry. And Jamie will be allowed to write to you and you can come visit here. If you want to go back to your aunt and uncle—”</p><p>“You can’t—!” I started but he cut me off.</p><p>“<em>Enough</em>. I get it, James. You don’t want Harry to go back because of the way they treated him and if there’s any other reason you can’t tell me because of the geas. And I don’t want you to try, is that clear? We can manage this without hurting you. Remus and I feel exactly the same but Harry lived with his mother’s sister for his own safety, the Headmaster explained it. And there’s more than one way to keep Harry safe, not just yours. Can you let Harry decide?”</p><p>“He’s seven! He can barely decide what to eat for breakfast!” It was true. This morning he nearly cried on being given the choice between eating porridge, eggs, or both. “You can’t let them take him!”</p><p>I expected him to say ‘and you’re five’ but he didn’t.</p><p>Instead, he said this nonsense, “If Harry wants to go back we will let him but we will make very sure that he is happy there. Believe me. Even if we have to move in with him.”</p><p>He shook a handkerchief out of seemingly nowhere and wiped my face. Only then did I realise I was crying. Okay fine, I was crying, it wasn’t the end of the world. You would cry too if you had to suffer this aggravation. Why couldn’t they just admit my way was better?</p><p>“Do you not want him to live with us?” I asked, sounding more pathetic than I’d like.</p><p>“Of course I do. He’s family.”</p><p>“Then tell him that also! It sounds as if you are pushing him to go!”</p><p>“Does it?”</p><p>“Yes! Tell him he has an option, here or there!”</p><p>“If you can calm yourself, I will do that.”</p><p>I couldn’t. I was well beyond the point of anything you’d consider ‘calm’ but I managed to keep quiet long enough for Sirius to inform Harry he was welcome to become part of our family. That James could do with an older brother.</p><p>“Then you’d be like my dad?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And Remus?”</p><p>“He will be your second dad. The sensible one.”</p><p>That was news to me. Colour me stupid but I had thought this temporary. Oh, not temporary as in days or weeks, but a couple of months perhaps, until Sirius got his life back under control.</p><p>“Does he know this?” I asked through my tears.</p><p>“Shush. He is very much aware. Let Harry decide now. Where would you like to stay, Harry?” Sirius asked.</p><p>But I couldn't ‘shush’. I turned to Harry and told him, “If you don’t want to be here or with your aunt, you could choose Neville, I’ll talk to his grandmother, or we can ask the Weasleys. I’m sure—”</p><p>I got only so far. Sirius pulled me into a hug and clasped his hand over my mouth.</p><p>“We’re not sending you to the Weasleys,” he told Harry. “They have more kids than they can count already and besides, your hair might turn red.”</p><p>It was the least funny thing I had ever heard but Harry giggled.</p><p>“I’d like to stay.”</p><p>“So be it.” He let go of my mouth. “Let’s go inform the Mugwump. James can apologise while we’re at it.”</p><p>“For what?” I asked.</p><p>“What’s a Mugwump?” Harry wanted to know.</p><hr/><p>We all trooped back to the kitchen. Dumbledore was alone and stood looking at Molly’s clock. He turned to beam at us.</p><p>Sirius nudged me forward.</p><p>“James would like to apologise, Headmaster.”</p><p>I certainly did not.</p><p>“Harry decided to stay with us,” I said and pretended I did not hear Sirius’s sigh behind me.</p><p>“Did he now?” Dumbledore replied, looking thoughtful. “I thought he might.”</p><p>What did that mean? Did it mean, ‘I thought he might, but tough cookies he’s mine?’ I prepared to state our case in no uncertain terms, but never got the chance because the oddest thing happened.</p><p>Dumbledore’s face cleared, he clapped his hands together, and went back to beaming at us all as if he had just thought up a magnificent joke.</p><p>“Excellent decision!” he said. “I couldn’t have done better.”</p><p>What?</p><p>“Do your best to keep your father on his toes,” he told me and did what every bloody wizard I had met in this world had done so far and reached out to scrub my hair into a mess. And then he did the same to Harry. “I think you’ll do fine here."</p><p>Really, what?</p><p>While I struggled to get to grips with this turnabout—was he on mushrooms?—he moved on to Sirius.</p><p>“Your family was good at setting up security wards, Grimmauld had quite a few if I recall and was unplottable, yes? Hm…" He stroked his beard and contemplated the ceiling, why only he would know. "I believe you and I can make similar additions here. Unless you want to live in Grimmauld, that might be easier?”</p><p>“No,” Sirius and I said in unison.</p><p>I had soured of the idea also, and was already in love with the countryside.</p><p>“No? No matter. We’ll need an hour or two,” Dumbledore said and continued on about what a busy wizard he was with the Wizengamot and of course, school opening in less than a week, and that he had free time now and probably never again. “The children will have to be elsewhere of course, we can’t be interrupted.”</p><p>Wards! I didn’t want to be ‘elsewhere’ at all. I would have felt safer had I been able to watch. What if it was something to monitor us? I wasn’t going to trust Mr Twinkle-Eye so easily. At least they had forgotten about the apology I had yet to give.</p><p>Remus came, having changed into his muggle suit, and said we were overdue at the Longbottoms.</p><p>“I’ll stay,” I said.</p><p>“No.” Sirius picked me up and dumped me in Remus’s arms. “Your luck you’d step in front of a spell. Off you go.”</p><p>I flailed my limbs like an angry little windmill.</p><p>“So only Harry gets to choose?!” I yelled while Remus carried me out to the garden and we disapparated with Harry.</p><p>The last I saw was Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes as he turned to tell Sirius some rot about the apple not falling far from the tree.</p><hr/><p>“Argh!” I shouted as we cracked into existence in the Longbottoms’ topiary.</p><p>“You came! You came!” Neville yelled. He had been sitting in wait on their front steps and now jumped up in glee. “You’re late but it doesn’t matter, you came!”</p><p>“We did,” Remus said. “Why don’t you take Harry up, Jamie and I will follow.”</p><p>Neville’s excitement was catching, and Harry disappeared with him into the house, the two of them seeing nothing amiss with being told what to do. That left me and Remus in the garden, with him still holding me.</p><p>“Let me go!”</p><p>“In a moment. Let’s find a seat first,” he said and turned half a circle until he saw a bench and carried me over.</p><p>“Why?” I demanded to know through clenched teeth.</p><p>Yet another person who ignored me.</p><p>“Because you look ready to implode and I thought you might like a moment to gather yourself.”</p><p>I needed more than a moment. A year might not be enough. The wolf set me to stand on the wooden bench and cast a charm. The air around us shimmered a deep red, covering us in a dome before the colour faded, leaving only flickering red motes to show the spell was still active.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>Another thing someone did to me without asking. I jumped off the bench and scowled at him.</p><p>“I used to do this for your dad when we were younger. It’s soundproof and it let him yell as much as he wanted. It has a nifty little trick, do you want to know what it is?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“All right.”</p><p>He sat down on the bench looking unperturbed.</p><p>“Fine! Yes! What’s your nifty little trick—not that I care!”</p><p>Of course I cared, magic was the only thing I currently liked in this world. And Harry.</p><p>“You can shout and hop and throw things if you want but if anyone looked at us from the outside they would just see us relaxing on this bench, gazing at the clouds. Want to try it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“I can go out if you want, but we found it much more satisfying if he had someone to shout at. Would you like me to go out?”</p><p>Yes.</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Would you like to tell me what has you so upset?” he asked kindly.</p><p>No.</p><p>“I don’t like to be a child.” The words came of their own volition.</p><p>“What part of being a child don’t you like?”</p><p>“Everything!” God help me but once started I couldn’t stop. “Being picked up and taken where I don’t want to go without a by your leave! Everything gets decided for you, when to take a bloody bath and when to go sleep! And god forbid you want something else then you’re being uncooperative or rude and Sirius made a bloody list hadn’t he?!” I hadn’t seen it yet but he was not a procrastinator, that I had learned. I was sure it lay there waiting for me. “Rules and consequences! You two get to shout and be angry as much as you want but if I do it I am just rude! Where are your rules and consequences?! No one sends you to go take a bloody nap! Oh, and <em>Harry</em> gets a choice because he’s seven even if its a stupid choice to go back to his bloody abusers and apparently I ‘could do with an older brother’! I’m the o—!”</p><p>It was a good idea but our execution was a bit off. Excruciating pain shot through my head and blacking out came as a relief.</p><p>When I woke I was still in the Longbottoms’ garden under the dome but now on Sirius’s lap. My head throbbed and I groaned.</p><p>“Drink,” he said and held a vial against my mouth.</p><p>I drank it with alacrity and nearly sobbed in relief when the pain vanished instantly.</p><hr/><p>The pain was gone but I didn’t have energy enough to move from his lap had I wanted to.</p><p>“I suppose Remus told you everything I said.”</p><p>“No, he didn’t. What happens in the Red Circle of Wrath stays in the Red Circle of Wrath.”</p><p>“Stupid name.”</p><p>“Yes.”</p><p>“And it’s a dome, not a circle.”</p><p>“I know. We were eleven when we made that one up, we got better with practise.” He set the vial down but otherwise did not move. “Remus sent his apologies.”</p><p>“It was not his fault.”</p><p>“Yes. Not yours either. Do you want to tell me about it?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>This time it was really no. He was trying his best, I knew that. And I was acting like a child while fighting being a child. It was all poor impulse control and aggression and I found myself sometimes aware enough and watching from outside, aware and yet unable to stop myself.</p><p>I already knew what would happen if I told him. He’d feel guilty if he knew I thought he was a shitty parent and turn into Padfoot and I’ll end up feeling like a heel… And what did it matter? The Potters said I was going to turn into a child anyway, it was just a matter of time.</p><p>“It was stupid.”</p><p>“All right. Just remember, Remus isn’t the only one that knows the spell for the Red Circle of Wrath and if ever you want to have a good shout at me you need only say.”</p><p>“And what will happen if I shout outside the dome?”</p><p>“…a time-out followed by an apology to whoever you were shouting at, it’s on the list. Do you want to go home, sit here a while longer with me, or be with the kids? I think Remus planned to give Harry an introduction to magic lecture if you wanted to join that, it’s sure to be interesting.”</p><p>He was asking me what I wanted to do? That was new.</p><p>“So Remus <em>did</em> tell you.”</p><p>“Tell me what?”</p><p>He sounded truly confused and I remembered that they hadn’t lied to me yet. And that he did try. And it probably had something to do with what I shouted when we disappeared.</p><p>“Nevermind,” I said. “What about Dumbledore and the wards?”</p><p>“He can wait.”</p><p>“Then I’d like to sit here.”</p><p>“Good idea.” He shifted into a more comfortable position, stretched his legs out, and pulled me into a cuddle. “Let’s look at the clouds.”</p><p>My head felt too heavy to move so I didn’t bother, but there was something I didn’t understand.</p><p>“Why did Dumbledore give up so easily?”</p><p>“Molly’s clock.”</p><p>“What does that have to do with anything?”</p><p>“Oh, I think you’re smart enough to figure that one out for yourself. Let me know when you get it.”</p><p>“You’re very irritating.”</p><p>“So I’ve heard. Does that cloud look like a clabbert?” He pointed.</p><p>I had no clue what that even was.</p><p>“No.”</p><hr/><p>We went home, leaving Harry with Remus. Dumbledore had gone. He had left a note behind on the kitchen table that Sirius should call him. We had tea. We spent a comfortable afternoon doing nothing much. Well, I weeded for half an hour, an umbrella levitating above my head, keeping me in shade. I hope I weeded, I honestly didn’t know what I pulled out but there was a nice satisfying heap and Sirius rewarded me with lemonade and some of Molly’s cookies that she had sent home with us.</p><p>Harry came with loads to tell. I didn’t have to be in Remus’s tutorial at all, the kid relayed it nearly word for word.</p><p>Sirius suddenly giving me options or choices or letting me decide what I wanted to do, whatever, didn’t extend to bedtime. Did I complain? No, I was tired out and happily went to bed when told, Harry going along.</p><p>We still didn’t have a book to read. He didn’t enquire after those in Janet Taylor’s luggage—which was now in the attic—but sat on the side of my bed and told us a story. It was embarrassing. (Being told a story, I mean, not the story itself. That was a humorous little tale about a princess, a witch, and polyjuice.) I kept the blanket over my head the whole time.</p><hr/><p>The house was dark but I didn’t switch the lights on. It was anyone’s guess what the time was, two? four? Who has a house with no proper clock? Four wizards, it seemed. And I’m not talking about Molly’s clock that showed all four hands at ‘home’.</p><p>Sirius woke when I snuck past where he lay as a curled-up Grim in his new dog bed, and raised his head to watch me. He ‘whuffed’ a soft question. I ignored him and continued on my way to the kitchen. He followed me to sit in the middle of the floor and watched me scoot a chair to the oven to warm a pan on the stovetop, busying myself with the task of boiling milk. I added another splash.</p><p>Harry was wrong. I was not too small to manage a pan but it was more difficult. Still, I was familiar with the process and managed. To contain the mess I put two glasses in the sink and poured it there.</p><p>“We need to buy cinnamon,” I told him.</p><p>He was a dog again. Did that mean he was upset? Had he and Remus fought?</p><p>Carrying two hot glasses was impossible with these idiotic baby digits unless I wanted to mop the floor for shards so I carried one over to him and set it next to him on the floor before returning to fetch the other one.</p><p>“Goodnight, Padfoot.”</p><p>Harry was in the bottom bunk when I returned. I handed him the milk. “Drink.”</p><p>The stupid kid had woke with the realisation that he was going to live here now—forever. After the sixth ‘Jamie, are you awake?’, I was and had to listen to him wax lyrical about everyone from Augusta Longbottom to myself.</p><p>“Don’t spill on my bed,” I hissed.</p><p>When he was done I took the glass from him and told him to scoot over and shut up so we could sleep. I climbed in next to him and after some juggling of limbs, we found the most comfortable positions.</p><p>“G’nite Harry.” I closed my eyes.</p><p>“<em>Jamie</em>.”</p><p>Oh, god.</p><p>“<em>Harry. Whaat?</em>”</p><p>“<em>Have you met my parents?</em>” he whispered.</p><p>Math. Seven-year-old Harry Potter needed to apply himself more in that subject. I’ll have to tell Remus.</p><p>“<em>Yes</em>.”</p><p>I waited for the headache.</p><p>“<em>…can you tell me about them?</em>” he whispered, barely audible.</p><p>“<em>You should ask Sirius and Remus, they grew up with them.</em>”</p><p>We had told him that, hadn’t we? I couldn’t remember. This wasn’t thinking time, it was sleeping time.</p><p>“<em>But you have my dad’s name. Please.</em>”</p><p>God. Satan himself wouldn’t be able to resist that please.</p><p>“<em>Promise to sleep after.</em>”</p><p>“<em>I swear.</em>”</p><p>“<em>Fine. Your dad’s hair is a bigger mess than yours…</em>”</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The best laid plans</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was Harry’s first day of school and he buzzed with excitement at breakfast, talking a mile a minute.</p><p>“If you were a bee we would have a pot of honey,” I told him.</p><p>He stopped what he was busy with—which was chomping food down like a starving cat and asking Remus if he needed to wear a special uniform to Neville’s—and looked at me like I was bonkers.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>I got two similar looks from Sirius and Remus, who—hell must be freezing right now—were sharing breakfast with us. Together. Progress! They had skipped their daily fight even. Or they might have had it earlier. Remus looked more hangdog than usual this morning, and Sirius, though present, was reading the paper, which he had raised to hide his view of Remus. He lowered it now to look at me with confused interest.</p><p>With the attention on me, Harry took his chance and snuck a bread roll into his pocket; he had been just as impressed as me when he learned how much magical pockets could hold and was continuously stuffing food in them. I was going to say something about it, but Sirius distracted me by saying that he would buy honey today while we were at school.</p><p>It was my turn to say, “What?”</p><p>“I’ll buy honey,” he repeated. “If you want anything specific, you need to speak up when we buy groceries.”</p><p>“Not that. You said ‘at school’. You do know that I’m not going, right?”</p><p>“Oh? Why not?”</p><p>I’m too old? No, not something <em>They</em> allowed me to say anymore. I fell back to the old standard.</p><p>“I’ll not be taught.”</p><p>“Muggle stuff maybe,” he conceded, which was progress also. “You can sort that with Remus, but do you know everything about magic?” he asked, prepping for the fight he had missed out on.</p><p>Was this a question that I could safely answer without pain?</p><p>“I know enough.”</p><p>Leviosa!</p><p>“You’re going.” He narrowed his eyes at me.</p><p>I immediately wanted to straighten up and go to Harry and Neville’s idiotic ‘school’ that had changed from afternoon to morning classes and was now even longer hours to accommodate us. That was some excellent parental mind whammy at work for sure, but I had an interrupted night and was grumpy enough to stand my ground. I narrowed my eyes right back.</p><p>“You can’t make me.”</p><p>“Remus will carry you if he must,” Sirius said.</p><p>I shifted my glare to Remus, who looked surprised at being included but willing.</p><p>“If I must,” he said.</p><p>He didn’t need to do anything of the sort. Harry solved all their problems by telling us he would stay with me.</p><p>“I can do school another day; we can do it when you’re older.”</p><p>“I’m not going when I’m older either.”</p><p>He looked scandalised. “Not even to Hogwarts?”</p><p>Would I be going to Hogwarts? How would I even know if I was on the list? And if I was, what would I do between kids? Plan C was forever ago when I hadn’t yet experienced life as a kid in this world; there would be too many adults telling me what to do—Sirius and Remus were already two more than necessary. It might have been fun had I been the same age as Harry, and we could go on adventures…</p><p>I was brought out of my musings by Sirius’s hand on my forehead and looked into three pairs of concerned eyes. I flapped his hand away.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Are you with us? Did you have an episode?” Sirius asked.</p><p>An epi—ah, what an excellent idea. A yes would keep me in bed and away from their little school fun fest. But Harry had glommed on to that also and was already making excuses to stay so that he could look after me. He could make soup! He’d seen how Petunia made it and helped peel the carrots and potatoes! The idea of all that energy and love directed at me the whole day, coupled with his poorly disguised sorrow at missing out on his first magical lessons, had me quick to assure them that I was fine and that I would go with him to Neville’s.</p><p>Sirius sat back to gloat as if he had personally managed to change my mind, and Remus looked amused. He looked less amused an hour from then when I told him I only said I’d accompany Harry, not that I’d join, and took a book to the window seat, ignoring the third little desk. Which left Harry confused as to who he should join. Remus solved that by affecting a teacher’s voice and pointing him to his desk.</p><p>“Sit,” he said, and Harry sat.</p><p>Harry’s energy was enough to fire up Neville, and Remus was smart enough to bring our nervous little host’s knowledge into the lesson, and together they taught Harry the basics of magic. Or rather, gave him his first lesson in the basics of magic. It turned out there was no easy way to describe a force that did as it wanted and had the most arbitrary rules that changed if some smart wizard or witch fiddled with it enough. It was interesting, and it was more fun seeing the two kids compete for Remus’s attention than reading, but I did that surreptitiously to keep my win, turning a page now and then.</p><p>Both kids settled down when the next lesson was a sneaky combination of muggle history, science, and math, and I took a nap while they learned about the origin of catapults and how to calculate force, angles, and trajectory. I woke from their noise to find them making catapults with things they had scrounged from the kitchen while Remus transfigured one from a wooden spoon. They followed up with an impromptu war, building ‘castle walls’ from books. Seeing me awake, Harry invited me to join.</p><p>“Only boys who paid attention to the lesson are allowed,” Remus said. “Perhaps next time.”</p><p>I stuck my tongue out at him.</p><p>At tea, Augusta quizzed both Neville and Harry on what they had learned before turning to me.</p><p>“And what have you read today?” she asked.</p><p>I realised that I could not for the life of me remember what book I had picked. I told her I had napped and tried not to be shamefaced about it. Her disappointment was tangible, but she let me be and told Neville to sit still.</p><hr/><p>The week went like that. In the mornings I would balk and be forced to go anyway. Remus was looking more tired by the day, and sometimes I gave in just to give him a break, others it was to placate Harry, who found a love for all things learning but still loved me more, and twice Sirius scowled me into going without a word said.</p><p>Afternoons were an unexpected freedom.</p><p>Both wizards had taken to watching me warily for whatever I was going to do next, but Harry was saved, and I wanted to bask in it for a while, not run off to the next task.</p><p>It was odd having nothing urgent to accomplish. At first I didn’t know what to do with myself, and I hung around and let Harry decide our days. The toys Sirius had bought certainly helped, and the two of us had a great time exploring magic and all that involved.</p><p>Harry stuck to me like the score of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum under Neville’s little school desk, and kept thinking up new games to play. It was quite the experience, having little else to do but play day and night.</p><p>Sometimes Sirius would join, which truly made it fun. He would charm the walls to let us bounce off it or levitate us on request to float around the ceiling until Remus chased us all out of the house, claiming we made too much noise. I figured this was more for the benefit of Sirius—who still only went out if he had something to do—to get him some fresh air.</p><p>Remus rarely joined in our games, even if asked. He only stepped up when Sirius wasn’t there, having an ‘off’ day. The clock would point all of us to ‘home’ so I knew he was hiding up in Remus’s bedroom but was prevented from interfering by simply being taken away. Far away. Remus’s type of fun was brisk walks where we said hello to sheep, was told the names of plants, and splashed in streams. There was no length to it; it simply went on until our feet dragged, and then he would turn us around and do the same back.</p><p>Watching me for what I’d do next didn’t stop them from giving Harry and me the freedom to wander unsupervised outside when we wanted to. Sometimes we would go to Neville’s, and once Ron and Ginny floo’d over, their farm too far to walk to easily, but mostly it was just the two of us exploring. The clock helped, and I think they trusted me not to do anything that would involve the kid in danger after I did my best to save him from it.</p><p>Oh, the irony.</p><hr/><p>Another school day was done, and we had been left behind to play.</p><p>We were in Neville’s toy room, lying around on the floor, feeling both lazy and bored, when Harry said, “I never did accidental magic either. Maybe I’m also a squib.”</p><p>The kid was an idiot.</p><p>“You flew a broom, Harry,” I reminded him and threw a pillow at him. “You’re not a squib.”</p><p>“It’s just me,” Neville moaned. “I’ll never do magic; I’ll have to be an accountant!”</p><p>“You’re not good enough in math,” Harry teased. “You’ll have to be a caretaker. We’ll give you chains for your birthdays so by the time you’re an adult you’ll have enough to hang kids by their thumbs.”</p><p>Ron had informed us of that little nugget. According to him, squibs either became accountants or caretakers, like Filch in school. He happily relayed every last horror story his brothers had ever told him about Hogwarts’ caretaker and then said an accountant was worse, whispering as if talking about great evil. They lost some of their alarm once I told them what an accountant actually did, but that didn’t make Neville any less depressed.</p><p>Neville rolled over the floor like a log until he bumped into me and stuck his face into mine.</p><p>“I don’t want to be an accountant. You said you could prove I had magic; we had a deal.”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>I didn’t forget. Poor Neville had to miss pudding for a week because of me. I just wished I had promised anything else; he would have been satisfied with a chocolate frog. Because other than dropping him out of a window, I had no plan. Was I going to admit to that? Hell no.</p><p>“I’m on it, but it needs to be a surprise to work.” I pushed his face away. “So I can’t tell you about it.”</p><p>“So surprise me already.”</p><p>“It won’t be a surprise if you know it’s going to happen,” Harry said, side-eyeing me.</p><p>Was that suspicion? The kid was much too wily.</p><p>“Why don’t you go out a bit, and Jamie and I will prepare.”</p><p>Neville had never left a room so fast before. Harry rolled over and it was his turn to stick his face millimetres from mine.</p><p>“You got nothing, admit it.”</p><p>“I have!”</p><p>“Liar.”</p><p>“Yeah, fine. I don’t have a plan. Accidental magic happens with strong emotions, you heard Remus. We should scare him, but I don’t know how. Stand behind a door and say boo?”</p><p>“We?” He grinned. “That won’t work anyway. Neville scares easily because of his gran, so he’s used to it.”</p><p>It was true. The kid was one nervous ball of angst when she was around. Not knowing if he was a squib was only partly to blame, but things might improve for him if we could resolve that.</p><p>“Then I got nothing.”</p><p>Except for dropping him out of a window, have I said that already?</p><p>“I do,” he declared, and stuck his chest out, looking very impressed with himself. “We have to make him a hero.”</p><hr/><p>That was how I found myself hanging out of the first-floor window, desperately clinging onto the frame. Below me was a bed of roses, and I was praying I would miss that and more so that I would bounce.</p><p>Harry hammed it up and called, “Neville! Help! Jamie’s going to die!”</p><p>I switched to praying I wouldn’t die.</p><p>Neville burst into the room at full speed and rushed to the window, took my predicament in with one glance, and yelled, “Help!”</p><p>“You’re the help!” Harry cried out, hands clasped theatrically against his chest.</p><p>Had I not started to feel my fingers slipping, I would have busted a gut at the two of them.</p><p>This was Neville’s cue to storm out of the room.</p><p>“Ninny! Help!”</p><p>Shit.</p><p>“Help me up, Harry.”</p><p>“Hang on, maybe she won’t answer and he’ll come back.”</p><p>“At least grab on to me damn you, I’m going to fall!”</p><p>“Really?”</p><hr/><p>Augusta saved me. Neville had run all the way to the garden, and she levitated me down to the grass and then had me in her clutches.</p><p>“What on earth were you playing at, James?”</p><p>“I”m sorry, I thought I heard a baby bird, Aunt Augusta. It could have been an owl!”</p><p>“Idiotic boy, get your father to buy you an owl. Neville, tuck in your shirt.”</p><p>“Yes, Ninny.”</p><p>He did so promptly.</p><hr/><p>“What were you doing?” Neville asked once we were safely back in the toy room.</p><p>In the spirit of keeping it a surprise, I repeated the bird story.</p><p>“I thought you were going to help me,” he said disappointed.</p><p>“We were,” Harry said, standing up for me. “We are. It was part of it, but we can’t tell you, right? Or it won't work. You have to go out again.”</p><p>He went.</p><p>I stopped sucking my pinched fingers.</p><p>“I’m not hanging out of a window again.”</p><p>“Remus says only very special idiots try the same mistakes twice. What else can we do to you that’s dangerous?”</p><p>To me. We both agreed on that. Harry, because I was the smallest, and he would have an easier time saving me if Neville folded than I would if I had to save him. Me, because I wasn’t about to put a kid in danger.</p><p>Over the rest of the afternoon, I learned that not only had Harry taken lessons from Dudders and Piers but that he was ruthless when it came to acting it out.</p><p>“We can’t give up,” he said when the fourth try failed spectacularly, resulting in me getting stung by one very angry nest of wasps and being saved yet again by Augusta.</p><p>We received a dressing down from Augusta and a threat to send me and Harry home if we didn't play safe.</p><p>“Maybe we should take a break,” I said once that was done.</p><p>My legs felt like jelly, and I was currently trying to pretend I hadn’t bawled my eyes out while being hugged by Neville’s Ninny.</p><p>“You promised Neville,” Harry reminded me.</p><p>“I didn’t promise it would happen today, did I?”</p><p>I scratched at the flaking ointment on my wrist. Holy hell, that had hurt. Half of my face was still swollen and dripping from the purple goo that Augusta had slathered on, but at least the pain was gone.</p><p>“It's useless; he gets his gran every time.”</p><p>“So we have to go somewhere where he can’t get her.”</p><p>Harry shrugged. To look at him he was having the time of his life, all sparkling eyes and energy. Where I looked like I had been the dog’s chew toy.</p><p>“We’ll go for a walk; maybe we can get a cow to chase you.”</p><p>“Maybe we shouldn’t,” Neville said when we proposed the walk.</p><p>We haven't clued him in, and he was still under the impression that we were having mishaps while ‘preparing’. He was also starting to shoot Harry worried looks for some reason that I couldn’t parse.</p><p>“Jamie keeps getting hurt. And I don’t know if I like plans that involve wasps. I’ll just wait until I’m eleven; I’m sure Ninny won’t send me away before that.”</p><p>I was all for cornering Augusta on the issue, despite her formidable… everything. She did seem to love Neville and might never send him away, but the kid nearly fainted when I suggested it and swore us both to secrecy, so I let it be.</p><p>“Okay,” I told him now, spurred on by Harry’s disappointed face. “Don’t worry. We can do it another day; we’ll just go take a walk.”</p><hr/><p>We didn’t get a cow to chase me; the three we found were surprisingly docile. Have you ever touched a cow’s nose? Soft! And wet!</p><p>We did get a goat.</p><p>Egged on by Harry, I climbed over the fence and went to brave the evil creature while Neville begged me to come back.</p><p>It looked at me with its small beady eyes, and I stupidly remembered Dumbledore turning into a goat but couldn’t for the life of me remember if it was from the books or a cracky fanfic.</p><p>“Hey there, you’re a good goat, aren’t you?” I said with an unmanly quiver to my voice.</p><p>“You have to touch it, Jamie!” Harry shouted.</p><p>Fine. I reached out and ever so slowly moved closer to what I would soon be naming Satan’s Spawn. Millimetres from the dark brown patch between his beady eyes he lost patience and headbutted me so hard, so efficiently, that I momentarily achieved lift-off before slamming into the ground, breathless.</p><p>It looked at me as if curious to see what I would do next. I scrambled up. It lowered its head a second time.</p><p>Both Neville and Harry shouted, “Ruuun!”</p><p>I legged it. The trouble came when I realised that Satan’s Spawn was between me and the gate where the two seven-year-olds were waiting, yelling encouragement; which meant I had to run the opposite way into a wide open field with not even a rock to hide behind.</p><p>It was educational.</p><p>I learned I could run faster than I’d thought.</p><p>I also learned that a five-year-old’s speed was no match for a goat’s.</p><p>Satan’s Spawn headbutted me twice more, helping me on my way before Augusta appeared, standing like an Amazonian warrior queen in her garden trousers and wellies, wand out. I dove between her legs, removing the last traces of skin from my palms and knees. She cast a shield into which Satan’s Spawn crashed with a magnificent bleat and petrified him with cold, quiet efficiency.</p><p>“Oh, thank you, Ninny!” I cried.</p><p>“There is a theme here, James, that I do not like. Are you hurt?”</p><p>I took stock. My butt currently hurt the most because apparently, that was what Satan’s Spawn thought the best area to headbutt—huh, head butt, get it?—twice. My stomach ached either from the first one or from all the running and a fair bit of screaming. My hands and knees were starting to complain also, but I was simply too happy to be alive and told her no. I just wanted to lie a moment and get my breath back.</p><p>Harry and Neville trotted up, Harry falling crying to my side.</p><p>“I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have made you!” He twisted to Augusta. “We need to call an ambulance!”</p><p>“I’m fine!” I struggled to sit. “Calm down, nothing happened.”</p><p>But Augusta didn’t think so. She didn’t need Neville’s angry, “Harry made him do it!” to decide that she desired a word with Sirius. Harry and Neville received instructions to follow us, and she took my hand and apparated me to our rundown cottage where she entered with the barest of knocks, pausing only to step politely out of her wellies.</p><p>“Sirius Black, a word!”</p><hr/><p>Paws pattered down the stairs and turned into footsteps. Hair mussed and eyes dull, he looked as if he had just woken up but lost the last vestiges of sleep upon spying me.</p><p>“James!”</p><p>Then he was crouching over me, raising my face to see the damage, turning me this way and that. </p><p>“What on earth happened to you? Where’s Harry? Explain, Augusta.”</p><p>“Calm yourself, Sirius. He's fine, I checked. Harry is on the way with Neville; I thought it better to speak to you first.”</p><p>“Kitchen,” Sirius said and picked me up on his arm.</p><p>“Ow-ow-ow!” I grabbed my poor tortured butt and was summarily put back on my feet.</p><p>“Let me see,” he demanded and manhandled me with a gentle ease... peeling the back of my shorts down.</p><p>Regaining my wits, I grabbed for my pants—“Sirius no! Augusta is here!”—but was no match and did the next best thing, which was twist around to see the damage. It was useless. Even a five-year-old wasn’t such a good contortionist, but by the feel of it and his reaction, it was black and blue.</p><p>“Who did this?” he hissed.</p><p>“Satan’s Spawn!” I snapped and yanked my clothes back up. Ow! “Ask next time!”</p><p>“I believe Harry might be to blame,” Augusta said.</p><p>“What? No, he’s not!” I shouted in surprise, but both ignored me to discuss it over my head.</p><p>The bane of being a kid.</p><p>I hopped up and down, tugging on Sirius’s sleeve. That was enough to remind me of my stomach with another “Ow!” which meant he examined it next and we found that black and blue. God, my butt must look double that.</p><p>“What else are you hiding?” Sirius asked.</p><p>“Nothing. Harry didn’t have anything to do with it!”</p><p>Well okay, he had but not in the way Augusta made him think. But Sirius wanted a proper look now and decided the bathroom was better, inviting Augusta to come and explain there. I balked but was overruled and helped upstairs.</p><p>What followed might be the most embarrassing thing to happen since I came, even if Augusta told me in a no-nonsense voice that she was used to boys getting undressed. She was too scary to scowl at so I scowled at Sirius instead.</p><p>“You look terrible,” the bathroom mirror told me, and I agreed.</p><p>I did look a fright. What skin wasn’t scraped off was mottled or swollen, speckled with dried ointment, or covered in sticks and mud; had I seen myself earlier, I might have put a stop to the game. I blamed Augusta a bit for not doing that, and Sirius was of the same mind. He was quite snappish with her while she regaled him with the many scrapes she had saved me from, ending with my rescue from Satan’s Spawn.</p><p>“And at no point did you think to ask them what they were about?” he asked her, placing me gently in the filled tub.</p><p>I sucked in a hiss as the lukewarm water hit the abrasions.</p><p>“Look at him.”</p><p>“I think she looked enough,” I moaned. “Can I please have bubbles?”</p><p>Augusta reached over and poured bubbles from her wand.</p><p>“I’ve been a parent of boys longer than you, Sirius, and I will remind you of your games with this one's namesake. Boys are mindless little cretins that get into scrapes. Get used to it.”</p><p>“We’re not,” I said.</p><p>I bet Neville never got in any.</p><p>“What is more concerning,” Augusta said, ignoring me for the moment, “is that neither Harry nor Neville has a scratch on them.”</p><p>The moment passed. When she attended to me, I wished it hadn’t.</p><p>“Why is that, James?”</p><p>“I—”</p><p>We had promised Neville not to say. We hadn’t proved anything yet. But in hindsight, I certainly understood where he and now his grandmother got the idea from. I cringed under her severe look and turned to Sirius for help but he was sporting a similar one and I remembered they were both Blacks. I hunched into the bubbles.</p><p>“Is Remus here?”</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Being good</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It all came out in the wash. Literally. Oh, not at first, the two of them tag-teamed me while Sirius sat on the edge of the tub and scrubbed the worst of the afternoon off of me, and I must say, I held out quite well under the circumstances. I rattled it off like military serial numbers. It was only a game, I consented and no, Harry and Neville didn’t make me do anything I didn’t want to. The secret was not mine to tell, was it? That lasted until the other two ran into the bathroom, having come to a major realisation on the way home.</p><p>“I did accidental magic!” Neville yelled. “Ninny, did you see? I apparated!”</p><p>“I was there, yes,” Augusta said in her acerbic way and allowed him to embrace her.</p><p>“It worked!” Harry cheered, only barely managing to stop from falling into the tub trying to both hug my neck and dance at the same time, splashing water everywhere. “He zapped home to get Ninny to save you!”</p><p>“Ow, ow! He did?” I asked stupidly and considered it. </p><p>Ni—Augusta had been there very fast, hadn’t she? Impossible for Neville to run home faster than Satan’s Spawn.</p><p>“He did!”</p><p>Sirius sat back out of splashing range and gave me his signature narrow-eyed look.</p><p>“Did you put yourself in danger on purpose, James?”</p><p>And our future Gryffindor who was seemingly adept at knowing trouble after the fact jumped to defend me.</p><p>“No, he didn’t! I made him do it!”</p><p>“You did,” Neville said. “I mean I’m happy you helped me but he didn’t want to touch the goat and that was not nice.”</p><p>His round little face pulled into a stubborn scowl.</p><p>“I’m not going to play with you if you do that again.”</p><p>And Harry burst into tears.</p><p>“No one made me!” I yelled, splashing furiously in the slippery bath and nearly dunking myself in my frustration.</p><p>Sirius fished me out with an angry growl.</p><p>I yelped when he accidentally grabbed my bruised wrist.</p><p>As if that wasn’t enough, Remus entered, looking like a walking headache.</p><p>“What on earth is going on here?”</p><p>Harry, Neville, and I started shouting at once.</p>
<hr/><p>Augusta decided it best to take Neville home.</p><p>Sirius and Remus played divide and conquer. Remus took Harry off downstairs, and Sirius carried me to the bedroom. There he toweled me dry, Accio’d ointment from down, cast gentle Episkeys on my abrasions, and slathered me with purple glop until I felt like a greased pig. There was no more need to disseminate, so I spilled it all.</p><p>When the interrogation was over, he declared I would live, helped me into pajamas, and opened the blankets for me to scoot in.</p><p>“I don’t want to sleep.”</p><p>“It is not up to you,” he said with a stern face. “This way I’ll know exactly where you are for the rest of the day. You can consider it your punishment.”</p><p>I climbed into bed with a sigh. Thankfully the blessed ointment was doing its job and I felt no pain when my butt hit the mattress. I did the polite thing and thanked him for it, waiting for him to yell.</p><p>He did not. But he did not disappoint either.</p><p>It probably didn’t help that I started him off with a plaintive, “I don’t need to be punished. It was just a game…”</p><p>“Was it? We are very lucky you didn’t get hurt worse,” he said, his tone severe. “Any ‘game’ in which someone could get hurt <em>on purpose</em> is not a game the two of you should play. I would have thought you at least would have had more sense.”</p><p>Would he? I looked at him, astonished. Had he not been paying attention?</p><p>“No,” Sirius said, examining my face and reading me easily. “I shouldn’t have thought that, you’re right. You made sure Harry and Neville didn’t get hurt, why couldn’t you do the same for yourself?”</p><p>“They’re kids. Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”</p><p>Well, maybe the goat. And the wasps. I never wanted to see a wasp again in my life. I could invent a spell to kill off all the wasps in the world; would it matter if they went extinct? And there was that one horrible thing that I had sworn the other two into a near blood pact never to discuss.</p><p>“Most of it happened with the goat. Anyway, there are ointments and potions for everything, right? St Mungo’s—”</p><p>“We can’t fix dead with an ointment,” Sirius said flatly, eyes dark and unhappy.</p><p>I had nothing to say to that. Well, maybe I did.</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>He gave a long exasperated sigh which was worse than shouting and scrubbed my hair off my gloppy forehead.</p><p>“I don’t want you to be sorry; I want you to be safe. You can have an early night and use the time to think about your day. Tea?”</p><p>“Yes, please.”</p><p>Ugh. This day deserved strong coffee and a smoke in the alley behind the kitchen bins, not early bedtime and tea. I was too old to be punished.</p><p>I pulled the blankets over my head.</p><p>Later, when he brought a tray with sandwiches and lukewarm milky tea, I took them under my blanket fort, not looking at him. Frankly, I would have preferred him to shout. Isolation sprinkled with a lot of self-recriminations was much worse than anything he could have said.</p>
<hr/><p>Harry had his tea down and entered our bedroom sorry-faced and red-eyed. He crawled into my bed to join me under my fort and whispered an apology.</p><p>“I was like Dudders,” he breathed nearly inaudible in my ear.</p><p>“No you weren’t,” I struggled up. Blast them! “Did they say that? It’s not true!”</p><p>He admitted they hadn’t, but they had lectured on safety and consent with some mention of me being five to his seven of all things.</p><p>He sniffled and clutched me tightly, insisting, “It’s true! You got hurt, and I just made you keep on playing.”</p><p>I was going to kill Sirius.</p><p>“Listen, Dudders never played with you; he just bullied you so it's not the same at all. And you didn’t make me do anything. I made myself because you were having fun. I could have stopped it at any time! I’m fine, Neville is not a squib and it all worked out.”</p><p>“Neville’s angry at me.” This time there was a sob, an awful sick sound in my ear. “He doesn’t want to be friends anymore.”</p><p>“He didn’t say that. He said if you did it <em>again</em> he won’t want to be friends. He’s just not used to hard playing; it’s not your fault, we’ll play softer around him.”</p><p>He started crying for real, babbling things I could barely hear, but I got the gist of it, and I told him I had not considered him a Dudders-clone for one moment, and the thought of not playing with him had never crossed my mind. I also shouted for Sirius to come fix his mess when I realised Harry thought me and him being sent to bed early meant we’d not be allowed out of the room at all and that I would get to experience peeing in a bucket because of him.</p><p>Our bedtime story was skipped and the light shut off early.</p><p>Harry fell asleep easily, exhausted from all the emotions but I rolled around, kept awake by guilt. In the end, I gave it up for a bad job and went in search of milk. I was halted at the steps by the murmuring of Sirius and Remus, talking softly in the kitchen. Don’t ask me why but I sat down out of sight and listened.</p><p>“You’re doing fine…” that was Remus.</p><p>I stretched my ears but Sirius’s reply was near inaudible. Something about being a miserable father. And all of it being a mistake.</p><p>A mistake?</p><p>Had he finally realised I wasn’t his son? Was I the mistake? As quiet as a mouse I scooted a few steps down to hear better.</p><p>But I had forgotten I was dealing with good ears and a dark figure appeared at the bottom step. Remus. He said nothing, just pointed a firm finger up.</p><p>Glad that he couldn’t see my face I slunk back to our room.</p><p>Sleep was difficult that night and feeling guilty for making everyone miserable, I vowed multiple times to do better.</p>
<hr/><p>And promptly forgot it the next morning.</p><p>“I’m not going,” I said when Sirius enquired why I was still in my pajamas at breakfast and not ready for Neville’s.</p><p>I was feeling sorry for myself and wanted nothing more than a day in my blankets.</p><p>He was in the sitting room, half-hidden in the shadows. Not a good night either then.</p><p>“You’ll go,” he said without teeth. “Don’t make us repeat this scenario every morning, it is boring.”</p><p>“I was just going to say the same to you.”</p><p>“Stop fighting with your father,” Remus snapped in an unexpected temper, appearing out of nowhere behind me. “Go change clothes or go in your pajamas and face Augusta, it’s up to you.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>I hopped out of his way and gaped after him. What was that? Had he been body-snatched?</p><p>“I think you heard me fine,” he said and moved to join Harry in the kitchen.</p><p>“He said you must change your clothes, or go in pajamas,” Harry called all helpful from there. “Do you want me to choose some for you? We can look the same.”</p><p>“I’m not the one that can’t choose clothes.”</p><p>It was true. The kid agonised over what to wear now that he had a dresser full of options. And he kept it so tidy, I worried sometimes.</p><p>I watched as he surreptitiously stuffed a bread roll into his shorts’ pocket.</p><p>“Is that the pocket with the frog?” I asked. “You’ll have to throw that now, you’ll get salmonella. Take another roll and this time put it in your other pocket. And wash your hands.”</p><p>“What frog?” Sirius asked, perking up.</p><p>Remus hissed a disappointed, ‘<em>James</em>’.</p><p>Really what was the wolf’s issue? I debated telling him to go back to bed and try getting up on the other side but the sight of his thunderous face put paid to that idea. He looked like he could swallow a small child whole. Still, it didn’t mean I was going to back off completely.</p><p>“What? We always see him, and he doesn’t have to be sneaky in the first place. If he was smarter he would take two, Neville is probably hungry. Harry! Put jam on and take two.”</p><p>Jam will sweeten Neville to Harry again.</p><p>“What frog?” Sirius repeated.</p><p>Harry went to show off his frog, digging it out. It gave a miserable croak. Had it always been so flat?</p><p>“Fred said if I keep it with me it would become magical," Harry said. "When it does we are going to give it to Ginny to kiss.”</p><p>“Why?” Sirius asked.</p><p>Harry went off into a detailed description of his plan to get Ginny a playmate of her own. If Harry was stuck like gum to me she was Walburga’s permanent sticking charm to him. If she was sensible about it it might be okay but she had stars in her eyes and hero-worship in her heart and every morning the Weasleys’ owl would come with a missive from her to come play. Harry had finally learned of his status as the Boy-Who-Lived and wanted none of that.</p><p>I went to put jam on two rolls for him because he would never do it for himself and Remus gave me a tea towel to wrap it up in.</p><p>“Augusta provides tea, you know,” he said, still grumpy, his jaw tight.</p><p>“Neville is only allowed one of whatever there is and you know Harry’s problem.”</p><p>He was a squirrel saving up for hard days to come.</p><p><em>Forget it, I’m not coming with you</em>, I wanted to say but my eye caught the clock behind him. His hand was slowly inching towards ‘<em>In Trouble</em>’ and I suddenly got it.</p><p>“—I’ll go change my clothes,” I said.</p><p>It was hard not to feel sorry for him, and I wondered if I would be eaten if I patted his hand. Were his teeth more prominent? Surely it was just my imagination. The silly game I had played with Padfoot that first day came to mind and I felt ridiculous remembering it.</p><p>We left but not before Sirius sent Harry back up to brush his hair and inspected me for damage. His parental angst made me uncomfortable, worse when he made a point to ask me to be more careful for his sake if not for mine. I’d much rather he snapped, but it seemed he and Remus had switched moods for the day.</p><p>On impulse, I patted <em>his hand</em> said, “I will. I’m sorry, I won’t do it again. Don’t stay inside the whole morning, get some sun at least while we’re out. Vitamin D will make you feel better.”</p>
<hr/><p>In the afternoon we received mail. A sleek owl flew in through the kitchen window and deposited two scrolls in Harry’s lap where he was busy doing homework on the living room floor.</p><p>“Not Ginny,” he said happily. “What type of owl is this, Jamie?”</p><p>I shrugged and dug a treat out of my pocket.</p><p>“I don’t know all of them.”</p><p>Not yet.</p><p>The bird was magnificent and looked fit for royalty. Who else did we know? Owls were frequent visitors to the cottage: Neville was chatty, the Weasleys had Ginny and Ron competing for Harry’s attention, Percy once sent me a school owl to say he’d been chosen for Gryffindor, and various owls brought newspapers and letters to Sirius who seemed to have lots of correspondence that he didn’t care to discuss. Well, I hadn’t asked about it anyway.</p><p>One of the scrolls was for me and Harry passed it over, opening his own. We read it at the same time. Twice.</p><p>“I’ve never been invited to a birthday party,” Harry finally said in awe, cuddling the fragile parchment against his chest.</p><p>“He got my name wrong," I snapped, feeling miffed.</p><p>I crushed mine into a ball, eying Harry with some worry. His eyes were huge and his little face had paled making the pink scar stand out prominently on his brow and I wondered if he was going to pass out.</p><p>He didn’t. He jerked to life and waved the parchment about like a demented cheerleader, hollering at the top of his lungs, “<em>Jamie, we’re going to a birthday party!</em>”</p><p>His excitement was all that was needed to stop me from saying I wasn’t going. It also made the Malfoys’ snobby owl flutter away without taking the treat I was still holding out. I complained. He grabbed me in a hug and jumped some more, bumping his chin on the top of my head.</p><p>“Sorry, I’ll buy you an owl when we’re big," he shouted. "What’s RSVP?”</p><p>I told him. Unlike me he didn’t immediately think that he would be allowed to go. He ran to the kitchen, dragging me along, where he read it out loud for Sirius’s benefit, and asked if he was allowed to go.</p><p>Sirius's 'yes' put him in a near delirious fit and Harry begged him to help write the RSVP that very moment, returned scatterbrained for his parchment and then again for his chewed on quill, jogging back and forth between the rooms, yelling, “Birthday, birthday, birthday!”</p><p>“You don’t seem too impressed with the idea,” Sirius said, back to peering with some suspicion into the pot on the stove.</p><p>Remus was still missing in action, and it didn’t look as if Sirius remembered how to cook.</p><p>“It’s addressed to James Black,” I told him. “Cousin James Black. You’d think if we were cousins they would at least know my family name.”</p><p>“I’ll tell them your right name,” Harry said.</p><p>He spilled quill and parchment between the vegetable scraps that still littered the table, moved the carrot peelings aside then thought better of it and stuck it in his mouth.</p><p>“I’ll write for us both if you want.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“James will write his own,” Sirius declared and finally started clearing the scraps from the table. “It is good manners.”</p><p>I groaned and Harry mouthed ‘sorry’ to me even if it wasn’t his fault. I told Sirius it was good manners to know people’s names also. He agreed which was no kind of fight but I was slowly starting to tire of fighting anyway.</p><p>I did not want to be a mistake.</p><p>I left the conversation to Harry who was now carving slow holes in the parchment, tongue out, asking Sirius how to spell delighted, and afterward scratched a short response of my own. “I wonder if Neville got an invite also,” he said when we were done.</p><p>“Why don’t you two go over and ask him,” Sirius said. “You can send your letters with their owl.”</p><p>“Now?” Harry asked.</p><p>“Yes, be back in an hour.”</p><p>Something in the pot gave a belch and the smell of sulfur wafted over us.</p><p>I don’t think we’ve ever left a house so fast. Harry had loads of practise running from Dudders and I now had some experience with goats so we made it neck and neck to the gate.</p><p>“We should see if Neville’s having dinner early,” Harry said once we were jogging down the road. “Maybe Ninny will let us eat there.”</p><p>“We can only hope.”</p><p>Both of us jogged faster at the pleasant idea. Augusta’s meals were stodgy and stuck to your ribs in just the right way. She was never going to get Neville to lose weight the way she cooked but I wasn’t about to tell her that.</p><p>“Who’s Draco anyway? Is he nice?”</p><p>Was he? Would he be? He was seven. You had to put effort into being bad at seven, the world was still very new at this age. Effort or be a Dursley, maybe. In the spirit of the week, I decided to wait and see.</p><p>“Maybe? I haven’t met him, we can ask Neville.”</p><p>Neville said Draco was ‘polite’ and had ‘good manners’ and that when he was there he had to dress his best and Ninny made him be polite and have good manners too. And that he lived in a huge mansion with gazillions of portraits that never talked.</p><p>“Portraits don’t talk,” Harry said.</p><p>Neville took us to his grandfather’s portrait in the study and he and I had a great time watching Harry’s world turn upside down.</p><p>It was strange to think that I knew more about the magical world than Harry did and I watched daily as he was surprised with something new. There were the odd gaps such as this where he knew photos moved, he’s seen the newspapers and been through Neville’s books, but hadn’t encountered a talking portrait. Luckily he was popping into quite the conversationalist, asking a thousand why’s, and had a very patient—usually—Remus to answer each.</p><p>“Do you think there are portraits of my parents somewhere?” he asked me on the way back, sounding subdued.</p><p>“I don’t know. We can ask Sirius.” The album Hagrid had gathered for Harry might never happen now, I realised. “There should be photos somewhere, maybe he can find some.”</p><p>“Do you have a picture of your mum?”</p><p>The one Kingsley showed me immediately came to mind, a pale face of a dead girl even younger than I. Somewhere in the attic was a suitcase which might hold more but I was ignoring it.</p><p>“I don’t think so,” I told him.</p><p>As soon as we reached home I took Sirius to task for not telling the kid more.</p><p>Storytime that evening was filled with tales of Harry’s parents and their many adventures at school.</p><p>I listened quietly and Sirius let Harry ask all the questions he wanted until he was tired out. A lot of it sounded fanciful and more a made-up version of an idyllic childhood and I wondered how much he remembered after Azkaban but didn’t ask. There was no reason in the world a seven-year-old orphan couldn’t have fairy tale parents. He dashed Harry’s hopes of finding his parents as portraits but promised to find out if they had left him anything else, after all the Potters were a generations-old family.</p><p>I wondered what Sirius remembered about Janet Taylor but didn’t ask.</p>
<hr/><p>Harry and I, in unspoken agreement, behaved like angels for the rest of the week. Remus deteriorated by the hour but kept his mood to himself and Sirius stepped up and took charge of our days. We ate too many sandwiches and eggs. We were also praised a lot. And by a lot I meant <em>a lot,</em> every small thing from brushing teeth to throwing eggshells in the bin got praise. I rolled my eyes where he couldn’t see and kept waiting to be praised for breathing. Had Remus told him what I overheard? Was he making up for it? Harry glowed each time like a supernova and did his best to become the sweetest boy alive.</p><p>On Saturday Sirius floo’d us over to the Weasleys for a playdate—most likely to give Remus a quiet house—but we didn’t stay long. With Hogwarts in term, it was just the youngest four there, and no Bill and Charlie to referee meant disaster. Ron had a perfectly round hole in his tongue, the twins were missing in action, and Molly was on the warpath. She stopped only long enough to give us hugs and a good-sized tin of cookies and left in search of poor Fred and George.</p><p>None of them had been invited to Draco’s birthday and Ron told us all about the family feud, caused by their bad ‘muggle-loving blood’ and his father’s job. He would have had a right good time of telling us all about the dark artifacts the Malfoys harboured, was it not for the hole in his tongue. Big fat crocodile tears filled his eyes each time he lisped until Harry thought to cheer him up by getting him to practise whistling through the hole instead and that worked a treat. Ginny refused to kiss the frog but was willing to smooch Harry, and Harry floo-called Sirius to come save us while I distracted her by telling her how bad his morning breath was.</p><p>Maggots might have been mentioned.</p><p>“That was fast,” Sirius said when he returned us home. “I thought you two went to fly.”</p><p>“I think Molly is going to beat the twins and we don’t want to be there for that,” I said. I could see no other reason for her walking around the farm with the kitchen broom in hand. “And Ginny did her thing. If you want us out of the house we can go buy birthday gifts? Harry had never done that.”</p><p>“And have you?” Sirius asked curiously.</p><p>I shrugged.</p><p>“I’ve bought lots.”</p><p>He needn’t start thinking I was also a little orphan boy. He knew what I was.</p><p>We went shopping.</p><p>Sirius thought a book might be a good idea for a gift and finally brought a stack for our bedroom’s still empty bookcase; Harry and I had a good time choosing it and I made very sure none of it was educational. I made Sirius buy a calendar under the ruse of writing everyone’s birthdays down and chose one with a large owl on the front that blinked sleepily at me when I tapped it.</p><p>We made sure to pass by the sweets shop to stock up for the house, didn’t have to beg too hard to get some ice cream, and took takeout from the Indian restaurant.</p><p>And then Sirius steered us into Eeylops Owl Emporium.</p>
<hr/><p>“Eat, James,” Sirius reminded me for the umpteenth time.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Food, fork, mouth,” he said.</p><p>Funny. I speared a bite of chicken but let it lie where it was. Who could think of food on such a momentous occasion?</p><p>Sirius sighed.</p><p>“What will you name him?” Harry asked me.</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“What will you name him?” He giggled and pointed his fork to the small owl on my knees.</p><p>Oh. “Fish.” Fish, who was as in love with me as I with him, sat and cooed on my lap. I gave him my chicken.</p><p>It took a while for Harry to stop giggling enough to ask me, “Why?”</p><p>I let Harry smell him.</p><p>The Northern Pygmy-Owl was a small puffy ball. He had no ear tufts, his rust coloured head and back was covered with fine white speckles, and he sported white streaks down his front. Beyond the fact that he was red and not bright purple, he didn’t look that much different from Harry’s puffskein in shape or size.</p><p>Oh, yes, I forgot. Harry got a puffskein. And he didn't need to laugh at me; he was also cuddling it as if it was going to disappear. He left off eating to stick his nose into its purple fuzz.</p><p>“I’m changing his name to Dust!”</p><p> </p>
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